Into Africa
by ucsbdad
Summary: An AU tale that sees a soldier and an archeologist meet in Africa. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

"Really?" He said. The colonel wouldn't have minded more sarcasm. In fact, he would have expected it. But the civilian sitting next to him was an unknown quantity. He looked the man over. Khaki pants and shirt, but with nicely shined and expensive boots. All he needed was a sign that said "CIA".

"Really, Rick. You'll be riding herd on an archeological expedition."

"How big is this expedition?"

"Between a dozen and eighteen people. Mostly grad students."

That was the civilian. He was sure the man was an analyst or some kind of paper pusher. He took a deep breath. "My team is down to ten men. Sergeant Wallace, my comm sergeant, is in a French military hospital in Dakar, shitting blood. My assistant engineer sergeant is teaching the Estonians and some other NATO troops about IEDs, not that they'll ever get outside the wire to see any."

"Perhaps I should explain to the captain some of the background of this mission?" That was the civilian again. Rick knew he was going to _love_ having the background explained to him. The colonel just nodded.

"Captain, there are political reasons for this on two levels."

Rick nodded. He was sure that political reasons on two levels was at least four times as bad as a political reason on just one level. The civilian went on.

"Duquesne University-New York wanted to send an archeological team here, but the government of Niger turned them down flat, as they should have. All that Niger saw was an opportunity for the local jihadis to kidnap some Americans and give their government a huge headache. But the university didn't let that stop them."

"The head of the archeology department is the son of a senator or something?" Rick guessed.

The civilian smiled. "No, but Senator Cliff Souder is a graduate of Duquesne and he's very good friends with the Dean of Students and the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts. Their daughter is leading the expedition. Senator Souder is very fond of his alma mater and agreed to help."

"I'm fond of my alma mater, too, but I don't want to get a bunch of students killed. Can't we talk the senator out of what is obviously a dumb idea?"

"There's more to this, Rick." That was the colonel. "There are a lot of people in DC and elsewhere who want to end the war on terror. They say it's lasted too long and cost too much in blood and treasure. We ignored Afghanistan after the Russians left and that got us 9/11. We left Iraq and ignored Syria and we then had to go back and fight the Islamic State. Now we're here in the Sahel and they want us out now. Hell, we don't need to garrison all of these places, we just need some people with muddy boots on the ground to tell us what the hell is going on so we don't get blindsided. People like you."

The civilian went on. "The site of the proposed dig is in the Air Mountains in northern Niger. The site is here, on Hill 1750A, which is just about the highest place in the whole range." He tapped a satellite photo.

Rick saw where this was going. "So, if we put an electronic listening post there, we could pick up jihadi communications from Libya, Mali, Chad, Algeria and Niger itself."

Both the colonel and the civilian smiled. "You've got it, Rick. And don't worry that were going send you up there with just your team. We have a reinforced Ranger platoon for you. We're adding a couple of machine gun teams, a mortar team, a recoilless rifle team and a Ranger sniper team. Plus, some additional medics and we even have a doctor for you, since you'll be so far away from any other medical facility."

"Who's the doctor, sir?" Rick was curious.

The colonel checked something on his desk. "A Captain Myron Fields."

Rick frowned. He knew, or knew of, all of the doctors who would be tough enough to keep up with a Special Forces team if things turned to shit, as they had a habit of doing.

Seeing his concern, the colonel continued. "He's already here. You can meet him over at the base hospital after we're done here."

"A reinforced platoon isn't much to go up against the jihadis out there. Once they realize we're sedentary, they can mass and overwhelm us."

The colonel handed Rick the satellite photo. "1750A is the core of an old volcano, what we'd call a mesa. The volcano itself was worn away by erosion, but the plug, or core, remained. There's only one good way up the damned thing and a squad could hold off a battalion."

"One _good_ way?" Rick asked, emphasizing the word good.

"We've had our mountaineering specialists look over satellite and drone photos of the mountain. They've identified ways that a good climber could get up. We're providing you with sensors and drones to keep an eye on the whole mountain. And people to run them as well."

The civilian spoke. "We can also let you have a Nigerien Army team. We've trained them, equipped them, and we pay them directly so no one in the Ministry of Defense gets their hands on their pay. A Lieutenant Diori is in charge of a team of fifteen men. He's been trained by us and the French and speaks good English and French. I understand you speak French, Captain?"

Rick nodded. "I picked up what they speak here. It has a lot of African loan words and some changes in pronunciation, but I can get by."

Now the colonel spoke. "We're giving you an ELINT team from the ISA and the CIA is sending its own team."

The civilian smiled. "Our facility is highly automated, so it only requires four men to run it. I understand the military Intelligence Support Activity team is twelve strong." He sounded pleased that his equipment only needed a third of the people as the Army's team. But, Rick knew, a dozen military electronic intelligence specialists in a foxhole were better than four civilians if push came to shove.

"Why are the archeologists so interested in this place?" Rick asked.

"What do you know about the Roman Empire?" That was the civilian. Rick was positive he'd love to show off his knowledge of Rome.

"They had a great army and they went out of business a long time ago."

"When most books show you a map of the Empire, there's a whole bunch of land in one color and you're told that that was the Roman Empire. The Empire traded, explored and patrolled a lot of what was considered out of the Empire. They traded with Ireland, for instance, and the Roman Navy patrolled for pirates in the Irish Sea and often raided pirate dens in Ireland. They've recently found the remains of a Roman fort in Ireland. The traded with what is now Denmark and on into the Baltic Sea. They had a huge trade with India and East Africa. And Roman troops went there as well. Sometimes as mercenaries protecting traders, sometimes as guards for diplomatic missions and sometimes they explored and even garrisoned places. You're going to one of those places."

Rick wondered if that all couldn't have been said in one sentence.

The civilian droned on. "Dr. Beckett has made her career out of studying the Roman Empire's activities outside the formal boundaries if the Empire. She's found evidence that the Romans had a small fort in the Air Mountains. Caravans have been going from Sub-Saharan Africa to the Mediterranean coast for millennia before Rome was anything more than a little town on the Tiber River. She suspects that the Romans put the fort there for much the same reason we're going there, as a listening post to pick up intelligence on the desert tribes and raiders they might send out to harass caravans headed for the Roman Empire."

"How did she get from the idea that the Romans has a base somewhere in Niger, to having one on that piece of rock?"

"Satellite photos." The civilian said. "I'm no expert at photo interpretation, but the folks over at the National Reconnaissance Office say that this looks like a Roman fort." He handed Rick a satellite photo. It looked like a bunch of rocks to Rick. The civilian droned on about satellite photos.

"So, were going to set up an electronic listening post under the guise of guarding an archeological expedition." Rick broke in.

"I wouldn't put it quite that way, Captain."

_I would_. Rick thought. "Colonel, can I at least get Sergeant Bullard back from NATO?"

"We'll see, Rick. In the meantime, my staff will be cutting your orders and working all the kinks out. The archeologists won't be here for maybe a week, so you have time. Perhaps Sergeant Wickes will be out of the hospital by then as well."

Rick stood. "In that case, sir. I should be on my way."

Rick had saluted and was headed for the door when the civilian stopped him. "Captain Rodgers, I have two books by Dr. Beckett on Africa. One is about Rome in East Africa and one is an earlier work about Rome and the Saharan caravans. You might wish to read them. They're not the kind of dull, jargon related stuff you usually get from academics. They're both quite interesting." With the books, he handed Rick a sheaf of satellite imagery.

Rick took the books without much interest.

Rick walked across the main street of _Base Aerienne 201, _beginning to sweat at once in the African heat. By the time he reached the team house, he was soaking. He opened the door and entered the blessed air conditioning.

Warrant Officer Bill Reed, the team's second in command, grinned at him and got a beer from the refrigerator and handed it to him. Reed was the only African-American on the team, which Rick thought was wrong. In Africa they should have more, so they'd fit in better.

Reed himself was several inches shorter than Rick but nearly forty pounds heavier. And, as people said, Reed had muscles in places Rick didn't even have places.

"I saw the civilian headed for the colonel's office. Figured you might need a beer when you got back. Who was he?'

"He wasn't a SADist." Rick said, using the slang term for the CIA's paramilitary people, the Special Activities Division. "He's an analyst, or worse, some kind of administrator."

"So, what's the good news, Boss?"

Rick explained it to him. Reed nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. We can always use more intel on the jihadis and having a senator on board will help."

"I'll remind you of that when we're stuck on some miserable rock with a bunch of college kids and a platoon of Rangers." He handed Reed the satellite photos and the books. "Take a look at the imagery we got. We'll need to figure out how were going to set things up."

"What are the books for?"

"The civilian gave them to me. They're by the leader of the expedition, a Doctor Beckett."

Reed whistled. "Dr. Beckett is a hottie. Take a look." He held the book out, showing Beckett's photo on the back.

"As long as the photo isn't thirty years old."

"You'd know about that kind of stuff, boss."

Rick shook his head. "I have never allowed my picture to be released for any of my books. So, get back to work. They have a doctor for us. He's over at the base hospital. I'm going to check him out. I've never heard of him. Name's Myron Fields."

Reed shrugged. "He could be one of those guys who climbs Mt. Everest barefoot."

"Maybe." He replied, without much enthusiasm.


	2. Chapter 2

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Rick found Dr. Fields in the hospital pharmacy. Rick knew at once that Fields wasn't the type of man who would climb Everest barefooted. Or at all. He was short and chubby with a receding hairline. When he saw Rick, he saluted clumsily. "Good afternoon, sir."

Rick returned to salute. "First, Captain Fields, if you're going to salute, salute properly. Not with your thumb hanging down. Secondly, I'm a captain and you're a captain. I am senior to you and your commander. That said, we're pretty informal around here, so I'm Rick and you're Myron. Unless I get really mad at you and then you're Captain Fields and I'm sir."

"Yes sir. Um. Rick."

"So, what are you doing here?"

"I ran into a Major Wells at Fort Bragg, he's a doctor too. He told me that in Africa there are a lot of medicines that are not usually used a lot in other places that you'll need a lot of here. I'm trying to find some."

"The major was right. I have a sergeant in Dakar getting treated for some intestinal parasite almost unknown outside of the Sahel. But, what I wanted to know is why are you, someone obviously not in the best physical shape, doing going on a Special Forces mission in Africa. Hell, why are you in the Army at all?"

"My wife." Fields said quietly.

"Jesus. How bad can your wife be if this is better than being with her?"

Fields looked embarrassed. "When I first married Grace, I knew she was kind of set in her ways, but I figured we'd work out an equitable partnership. I loved her a lot back then. But, the longer we were together, the more controlling she became. She started complaining about things. And demanding that I make changes in my life. I resisted, at first, but I'd usually give in. I figured that if I made a few changes, she'd settle down and be happy with me.'

"But that didn't happen, did it?"

"No, sir. That is, Rick. Every victory over me left her wanting more. And, I was…She has a very wealthy family who had helped me a lot when I was just out of med school."

"Obviously things went south someplace along the line." Rick observed.

Fields nodded. "Marie."

"Marie?" Rick asked, seeking clarification.

"She was a nineteen-year old student nurse. We had, um, an affair."

"And Grace found out about it."

Fields nodded again. "A couple of doctors in the hospital where I had surgery privileges caught us…together. They told Grace and she filed for divorce."

"Let me guess. Marie took off?"

"How did you know?"

"Who wants a lover who's about to lose everything in a divorce. I assume you lost everything."

"Grace had the money to pay for all the lawyers in New York. She fought about everything, claiming everything we had was actually hers. And her family pressured the hospital where I had surgical privileges into dropping me. And she also told all of her friends to stop seeing me professionally. I had a Fifth Avenue clinic with more patients than I could handle, and suddenly I was nobody and nothing. And after she got everything in the divorce, her lawyers kept hounding me, claiming I had a hidden bank account, or going after my patients and offering to represent them pro bono if they wanted to sue me for malpractice. I was going crazy. What few patients I had, I couldn't see because of all the court appearances."

"And this led you to the Army?"

Fields nodded. "A friend of mine was an Army Reservist. He told me the Army was always looking for doctors. And he told me about the Servicemembers Civil Relief Act. It'll keep Grace from being able to sue me as long as I stay in the Army."

"And you ended up in Niger?"

"I told them to send me where I was needed."

Rick put his arm around Myron. "Myron, that was the dumbest thing you've ever done. I know that's so because if you ever did anything dumber, it would have killed you. But you do have balls, my friend. You really do. So, come over to the team house with me and have a beer." Rick thought of something. "How long have you been in the Army, Myron."

"A bit less than six months."

"We may have to teach you a few things, Myron. And teach you we will."

The next morning, Captain Rodgers went to see his commanding officer. Thankfully, the civilian wasn't there. "Rick, an Air Force C-17 is bringing in your Ranger platoon this afternoon at about 1400 hours. I have some info on their commander for you."

"A C-17 for a Ranger platoon? What are they bringing?"

"Not just the platoon, but a lot of building materials for you to set up your base. The rest of the bird is loaded up with material for the base here, or other units. But your platoon leader is a Second Lieutenant Hugh Glass."

"A butter bar? That's the best they could do? I know he's a Ranger and all that, but Christ."

"Just relax, Rick. Glass spent four years enlisted in the Second Ranger Battalion, got an Army ROTC scholarship to the University of Oklahoma. Graduated in three years and got commissioned. You probably won't get a better platoon commander."

"He'll do, then."

The colonel smiled. "He'd better. He's what we've got. So, you have any ideas about the mission?"

Rick pulled out one of the satellite photos he'd gotten the night before and put it on the colonel's desk. "The mesa is pretty round, as you'd expect. What they think is the old Roman fort is here, at the north end where it's mostly rock. The southern half or so, where the only good way to climb up is, is right here. "He tapped the map. "The southern end is probably sand or dirt since there's some growth there. I want to build two bunkers here, "he pointed at the photo," to cover the entrance, then the command bunker here, the medical bunker here, the generator bunker here, then supply and personnel bunkers, around here. Of course, this could change when we get there. There might be two inches sand over solid rock. I'll just have to see."

"Okay, we'll see what we get. But Big Army is being very generous with building materials for you. Or maybe Senator Souder helped. What's next for you?"

"I've got a very green Army doctor who would probably be more of a danger to himself than the enemy if it ever came to that. I need to take him to the range."

"Before I forget, your command is now known as Task Force 86."

"Any reason for that number?"

The Colonel shrugged. "It's a good number between 85 and 87."

Once out on the range that had been bulldozed outside of the base, Rick checked Fields out on the M-4 carbine and gave him one of Rick's personal M1911A1 pistols since the doctor wasn't authorized a weapon. Surprisingly, once Fields managed to get his stomach out of the way when shooting prone, and got over the noise and the recoil, he turned out to be an adequate shot.

"It's not that surprising, Rick. As a surgeon I have to use complex medical devices and I have to have good hand-eye coordination."

"You ever have a patient try to kill you while you were operating?"

"No."

"Then you need to keep practicing. The simplest things become very hard to do when someone's trying to kill you."

Rick and the rest of his team were present when the C-17 carrying the Ranger platoon landed and taxied to the hardstand. The rear doors opened and troops came filing out, looking around just like tourists. The first one off the plane was the platoon commander, Lt. Glass.

"Do we salute out here?" Glass asked Rick.

"It's not a habit I'd get into, or let your people get into, Lieutenant Glass. What's your platoon like?"

"We're fat, sir. This may be the only Ranger platoon in all creation that'd not just at our TO&E strength, but above it. I have one more machine gunner in my weapons squad than I'm authorized. Plus I have three medics attached. As far as experience goes, myself, my platoon sergeant, all three medics and all of my squad leaders have been downrange. So have about a quarter of the rest of my people. We're good to go, sir."

Rick, Mr. Reed, Fields and Glass watched vehicles exit the aircraft. First off were four ATVs.

"We figured it'd be easier to get a fire team or a machine gun team from place to place using ATVs, sir."

Fields looked at Rick questioningly.

"An ATV is an all-terrain vehicle, Myron. Think of them as a couple of motorcycles welded together. Sort of."

Fields just nodded.

Next were four armored HUMVEES.

"We have four armored HUMVEES, sir. The first two have Ma Deuces with CROWS mounts, the third has a 40MM automatic grenade launcher, also with a CROWS and the last one has…"

"Something I didn't know the Rangers had in their TO&E. Care to explain how you got an M134 minigun?"

"Um, it sort of fell off the back of an Air Force rescue bird, sir."

"I don't want to know, do I, Lieutenant?"

"Probably not, sir."

Rick nodded. "Okay, Lt. Glass. Get your people settled in. In about an hour you, your platoon sergeant and your squad leaders report to the team house, over there." Rick waved vaguely behind him. "I'll bring everyone up to speed."

Rick looked at Dr. Fields who was obviously bursting with questions.

"A Ma Deuce is a .50 caliber heavy machine gun, the M2, or Ma Deuce. A CROWS is common remotely operated weapons system. It allows you to fire the machine gun from inside a vehicle. A minigun is a six- barrel machine gun that fires either two thousand or six thousand rounds a minute."

"Thank you, Rick."

An hour later, the team house was full of people, all of Rick's team. Glass's Rangers and Dr. Fields. Rick had put a large blown up photo of the mesa on the wall.

"Okay, people, the mesa is about one and a half clicks from north to south and bit less from east to west. If you look at the south end, you'll see the mesa has collapsed, leaving a debris field that can be climbed. It's steep, but the locals have been climbing rocks around here for a couple of thousand ears, so they've gotten pretty good at it. I propose to site two machine gun bunkers here and here. "Rick tapped the photo. "We should be able to get anyone over six inches tall in a good crossfire and throw them back down." Rick went on and described where he would put the command bunker, the medical bunker and all the other things he planned.

"I worry about the hill to the east of us. It's damned near as tall as ours, with a rock spire that can actually overlook us. It's just over six hundred meters away, so it's in range. So we'll worry about that when we get there."

When he was done, he asked if there were any questions. Lt. Glass raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Could I ask you a question alone, sir?"

Rick shook his head. "If it's important enough to ask, we should all hear it."

Glass waited for a moment then spoke. "Do you know who exactly is on the archeological team?"

"No. I know a Doctor Kate Beckett is leading it. Is it important?"

"My sister is working on her master's in archeology at Duquesne. She does not approve of my career choice." The men in the room laughed.

"I'm sure with a platoon of Rangers, you'll be safe from her. "Rick replied.

More laughter.

Sergeant Xochomillo, one on the squad leaders, spoke over the laughs. "Don't bet on it. I saw a little one hundred-pound _haole_ at Schofield Barracks deck her two hundred-pound hubby. And he stayed down."

The meeting broke up.


	3. Chapter 3

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Over the next several days, the ISA and CIA electronic intelligence collection teams arrived. Also, a detachment of engineers with lightweight front loaders with backhoes and a couple of trench diggers. All were light enough to be carried in, or slung under, helicopters.

Lieutenant Diori, the Nigerien, arrived with his team. No one saw them arrive, they were just there one morning when everyone woke up.

Finally, the archeological team arrived in a white painted UN C-130 aircraft. The archeologists straggled out of the back of the aircraft. One of them, a tall, well built man with curly dark hair approached Warrant Officer Reed. "You! Get some people to move our luggage to our quarters, and hurry. We've had a long flight and we're all tired."

Mr. Reed looked at the man for a second. "You're in luck, sir. It just so happens I can see eighteen people who can do just that for you."

The man looked around. "Where? I don't see any."

"There are eighteen archeology students here. If they can't carry their own luggage, they aren't going to accomplish much out here."

"Who's in charge here?" The man demanded angrily.

"The Captain." Reed jerked his head to where Rick and Dr. Fields were standing and walked off.

The man angrily walked over to the two officers. "Who are you?" He asked Fields.

"Dr. Myron Fields."

The man laughed. "And what is your PhD in?"

Fields raised an eyebrow. "PhD? I'm Dr. Myron Fields, MD, Harvard Medical School and Fellow of the American College of Surgeons. I've often thought about picking up a PhD in my spare time someday."

The man glared at Fields. "Picking up s PhD isn't that easy." He growled.

"Compared to becoming a surgeon? It's child's play."

"Charles, what's the problem?" That from a feminine voice behind Charles.

"Dr. Beckett, it's bad enough we have to be saddled with these Neanderthals…."

"That's Doctor Neanderthal, to you." Fields said.

"Charles, let me handle this. Go get everyone and their luggage in our quarters." Charles walked angrily away.

Dr. Kate Beckett was a hottie, Rick reflected. She was tall, model slender and had great legs, partly covered by a pair of baggy shorts covered with pockets. She wore a tee shirt with the Duquesne-New York logo on it. She had short brown hair and lovely hazel eyes. Rick felt he could stare into those eyes forever.

"Which one of you gentlemen is in charge?" She asked.

Rick nodded. "I'm Captain Rick Rodgers, commander of Task Force 86, which is the unit that'll be escorting you."

Dr. Beckett smiled and held out her hand. "Glad to meet you, Captain. Please forgive Charles Bradley. He's a brand-new PhD and he can get a bit over-zealous. Now if you'll please excuse me, I have to get my team settled in for the night. Oh, what about our gear? Will someone handle that?"

"The Air Force Aerial Port Squadron will break down your gear in helicopterable loads. It'll take them a while, so we won't leave, I'd imagine, until the day after tomorrow."

"Thank you very much." And Dr. Beckett walked away.

"She is gorgeous." Rick said.

"She reminds me of Marie, who reminds me of my wife, who reminds me of….nothing I want to remember."

"I liked the way you handled Bradley, Myron."

He smiled. "Brand new doctors are even worse. They all think God is spelled MD. I got used to doing that."

When the sun was down, Rick had a talk with his troops. "Today I counted nine young ladies come off that UN bird. That is nine ways for you people to get in trouble. So, I'm going to make it easy for you. The civilian women are off limits. No fraternization at all. If you do, you won't know what hit you, I promise you. If you have to deal with one of them in your day to day duties, be polite, be professional, and do _not_ have a plan to kill everyone."

The men laughed at the last part.

Oddly, Charles Bradley was having a similar conversation with the female archeologists. "You need to know that soldiers are the lowest of the low. They're ignorant, violent, mostly illiterate, and have no sense of decency. For your own safety, stay as far away from them s possible. If you find yourself with one, run away. If you can't run, scream. I'll come and get you."

The women were mostly very impressed with Dr. Bradley's bravery.

When the desert began to cool off, Rick organized a barbecue for his troops. He had asked Dr. Beckett if she and her team would come, but she had declined.

Billy Hebert, the pride of Meaux, Louisiana, was a country boy. Ever since he'd seen the desert stars in the night sky of Iraq, he'd loved to look up at them, picking out the ones he knew from back home. He had taken his bratwurst and walked a few hundred yards from the barbecue.

"Hello." Said a distinctly feminine voice.

"Um, hello." He replied, trying to figure out if this was fraternization or his day to day duties. He decided he'd have to talk more to find out.

"What are you eating?"

"Bratwurst. We're having a barbecue."

"Can I have a bite? Dr. Bradley got us some kind of soup for dinner. He says it's really healthy for us, but it tastes gross."

"Tell you what. I'll go get you your own brat. You just wait here." Then he was gone.

In a few minutes he was back. "Here you go. I hope you like mustard. I put some on it."

"Thanks." She took a bite. "I should go. We're not supposed to wander away. Thanks again." And off she went.

Billy didn't know what she looked like, it being so dark, but she sounded nice.

The next day was spent with everyone checking and re-checking their equipment.

At 0300 on the day after that, everyone marched to the airfield where a collection of US, French and UN helicopters waited for them. The heavy military equipment was carried in, or slung under, US Army CH-47 Chinook heavy lift helicopters. Most of the men were either in US Army UH-60 Blackhawks, or French Pumas. A pair of French Army Tiger gunships would escort them. The civilians were in helicopters chartered by the UN from a Ukrainian company. They were white painted Mi-17 helicopters.

The choppers were under the command of a major. As Rick, Fields and Reed approached his helicopter they heard him call out to his door gunner. "How are you feeling today, Jimmy?"

"Like a mean motherfucker, sir." Was the reply.

Reed looked at Rick. "If he plays _The Ride of the Valkyries_, I'm going to hurl, sir."

"Me, too."

"Rick?" Fields asked. "Why do we have to leave in the middle of the night?"

"Hot and high conditions cause the air density to decrease, which means the rotors of the choppers are less efficient. It'll cut down our speed, ability to climb and our ability to carry the load we want to carry."

They boarded the chopper and strapped in. All around them was controlled chaos as aircraft began warming up their engines and checking their systems. The CH-47's that were to carry underslung loads took off first so their loads could be attached. Then the aerial convoy slowly lifted off and got under way.

Rick soon got bored of looking at the desert pass beneath them. He went to sleep.

He had only been asleep for minutes when Reed nudged him, waking him up.

"The major wants to talk to you sir."

The major was kneeling in front of Rick. "We just got word from the meteorological folks. Our destination is socked in by a sandstorm. A big one and it's headed out way. We're going to divert to a French base in Chad, near the border with Niger. We'll ride out the sandstorm there and leave early tomorrow morning. Sorry about that, but that's Africa for you."

They landed at a dusty, bare bones French base. Rick's soldiers and Kate's team managed to squeeze into a small hanger. They could hear Dr. Bradley complaining loudly about how incompetent the military was for delaying their arrival at their dig site.

"I'd like to go ask him how he controls the weather in the US." Fields muttered.

"Forget it." Rick replied. "You'll just get him angry and that'll do no good."

When night fell, everyone ate dinner. After eating, Rick went to get a cup of coffee from the large pot the French had.

"Could you get me one, too?" Dr. Beckett asked from behind him.

He turned around. "Certainly, Dr. Beckett. Would you like cream and sugar? It's right here."

"Thanks. I'll do that myself. Actually, I just wanted to apologize to you for Dr. Bradley. There's obviously no way anyone can control the weather. I asked him to tone it down, but all I managed to do was to get him to quietly tell the grad students about how incompetent the military is. I'm really sorry, but I can't really just tell him to shut up."

Rick grinned at her. "Believe me, being had mouthed isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I'll survive."

"Thank you." She nodded to him and left.

Shortly after 0100 hours they were woken by the helicopter crews. "Everybody up. Weather sat shows the sandstorm has cleared our LZ. We're on the very edge of it here, so by the time we mount up, it'll be past us. Get moving people."

Dozens of grumpy people headed for the birds and once again, strapped themselves in and watched as the choppers were made ready to go. This time they headed straight for the Air Mountains and this time they made it there.

Some ten kilometers from their destination, the birds went into a holding pattern, flying in a huge circle.

"What's happening, Rick?" Fields asked.

"The gunships are going ahead with Lt. Diori and his people in a Blackhawk to make sure the LZ isn't hot."

"Why Diori?"

"He's a local. He's more likely to see something wrong than we are."

The LZ was cold and the helicopters went in, dropping underslung loads, and getting people, vehicles and equipment out and onto the ground. It was just after dawn.

"Okay, first thing, I'm going to take Lt. Diori and his people with an RTO and go visit the local _caid._ There's a village not three clicks from here. It would be impolite not to stop and say hello." Rick said. "Glass, you're in command until I get back. Start setting things up."

"I'm going with you." That was Dr. Beckett.

"Dr. Beckett, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I do think it's a good idea. And, I want to impress on the _caid_ that we are a scientific expedition with military assistance and are no threat to him or his people. And I _am_ going."

Rick decided that Dr. Beckett was a very stubborn woman. "Okay. Suit yourself."

"In that case, Dr. Beckett, I'm going as well. I can't have you off with these people with no one to protect you." Dr. Bradley snarled.

That brought some laughs which were quickly smothered when Rick glared at his people. Rick continued. "Sergeant Gianetti, you're with me as my RTO. Go grab a radio. Next let's see if we can actually get down off of this rock."

They stood and looked down the south side of the mesa at a ramp of loose stones than ran all the way to the bottom. Rick nodded. "We can certainly get down."

Sergeant Pham, the senior engineering NCO looked down. "That scree, the loose stones, will give way under you sure as shit. You could fall and break something. And trying to climb back up'll be a bitch."

"And a good senior engineering sergeant would have a solution to that."

Pham smiled at Rick. "Of course, he would, sir. We got plenty of rope and engineering stakes. I can run a line down the mountain and you can steady yourself going down and then haul yourselves back up. Easy, sir."

Pham organized a work party and got the rope line set up.


	4. Chapter 4

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe. Into Africa

"Sure you don't want to take one of my squads with you, sir?" Glass asked. "Maybe a machine gun team or the snipers?

"No, this is a friendly visit. The jihadis haven't scoped us out yet, so they'll be laying back, looking us over."

"Do you think the jihadis even know we're here?" Dr. Beckett asked.

"Dr. Beckett, everyone in the Air Mountains knows we're here."

They worked their way slowly down the scree covered rampart and made it to the bottom without any injuries. They headed for the village which was only a few kilometers away. They hadn't gone far when the radio squawked.

"Snowshoes 6, this is 86 Base. Come in."

Castle grabbed the radio handset. "This is Snowshoes 6 actual. Over."

"We have a drone in the air above you. About five hundred meters to your front is a kid on a big rock. You'll pass right under him. Over."

"What's the kid doing? Over."

There was a brief pause. "Looks like he's eating lunch. But he has his AK by his side. Over."

"Keep an eye on him. He's probably just a sentry to keep the village warned of who's coming. Over and out." Rick handed the radio handset back to his RTO.

"Snowshoes 6 Actual?" Dr. Beckett asked.

"Snowshoes is my radio call sign. A 6 is the commander, of a company, a battalion or whatever. Actual means it's me, not my RTO or someone else answering."

Dr. Beckett grinned. "But snowshoes?"

"The Battle on Snowshoes, fought during the French and Indian War in 1757, by Major Robert Rodgers' Rangers. No relation, by the way. Everybody wants to be Big Duke 6, or Black Knight 6, or something like that. Around here, most folks probably don't know what a snowshoe is."

Rick could smell the village before he could see it. The smell of unwashed bodies, animals, human and animal dung, and smoke from burning dried dung. Then he could hear it. Sheep bleating, children both laughing and crying, women gossiping and men arguing.

Finally they could see the small village. Everyone had come out to see the strangers. Men, women, children and sheep.

The village headman, the _caid_, was sitting outside of a large camel hair tent. He looked aged, but was probably in his fifties. He was relatively well fed, with a dark complexion and a henna streaked beard down to his belly. He was prepared for visitors, having a plate of boiled goat set out along with some type of bottled fruit drink and a package of French cigarettes.

He was surrounded by the young men of his village, a rather surly looking lot, Rick thought. Behind the men were the women and the children. And the sheep

Lt. Diori introduced them and the _caid _invited them to sit. They began to talk, beginning first with pleasantries. The _caid_ hoped that Rick had had an easy trip. Rick hoped the rains had been good. The _caid _replied that the rains, here in the mountains, had been good, but could have been better. As it was, the crops had been adequate. The_ caid_ regretted he could spare no food for the strangers. Rick replied that he had all the food he needed. Without mentioning numbers, Rick managed to imply that he led a powerful force. All, he said, were People of the Book and respected Islam. He hoped that there would be peace in the Air Mountains.

"_Inshallah_." Said the _caid_. If God wills it."

A small naked boy ran to the _caid_ and put his arms around the older man. The old man proudly announced that this was his newest and eighth grandson. He inquired as to Rick's family.

"My family are all dead." Rick said solemnly, in French.

"I trust they were avenged?" The _caid_ said.

"As God wills it." Which was something of a lie.

"But, Commander, you have a new woman and I am sure she will bear you many fine, strong sons." He leered at Kate when he said this. Kate had enough sense to do no more than blush, but Bradley began to say something. However, Sergeant Gianetti leaned heavily on Bradley. "Bad idea." He whispered in Bradley's ear.

The mention of Dr. Beckett gave Rick an opening to explain the scientific basis of their expedition. The _caid_ was a bit shaky on ancient history, but he did understand that strangers had crossed over this land since the beginning of time. They had come and they had gone, just as this man and his soldiers would eventually leave.

Rick was about to depart when Kate began to speak. Her French would have impressed a gathering of intellectuals in Paris, but it was so far from the French _patois_ the _caid_ was used to, that he obviously had trouble following Dr. Beckett. And he was not used to being spoken to as an equal by an unveiled foreign woman.

Beckett explained her mission in more detail than was necessary perhaps, but by the time she was done, the caid was getting bored and was happy to see his guests depart.

"I think that went well." Beckett said.

"They didn't try to kill us right off. That's always a good sign." Rick replied.

"Really, the _caid_ and all of his people were perfectly friendly, and there wasn't a weapon in sight. I think they rather liked us."

"Maybe, but most of the local jihadis are nomads, Tuaregs and the like. Nomads have been living by the sword, mostly at the expense of their settled brethren, for many centuries now. Just because the first village we went to was friendly is no reason to believe everyone is friendly, or that they'll stay that way. The nomads, the Tuaregs, will be around long after we're gone. And the _caid_ knows it."

"I'm afraid you're just a born pessimist, Captain Rodgers. I choose to take a more enlightened view of things."

Rick nodded and thought to himself. _And us pessimists have to worry about keeping you optimists alive. And us pessimists, as well._

As they approached the mountain, Kate could hear machinery at work. At first, she dismissed the possibility, but as they began to climb the steep scree covered slope, she was sure she knew what was going on.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She screamed at Rick when they reached the top.

"I'm digging my command in so that we can withstand an attack." He replied coldly. "These are machine gun bunkers covering the route up this rock. That's the command bunker, "He pointed to the right and some hundred meters behind the other bunkers. "Beside it to the left is the medical bunker and behind that is where the generator bunker will be. Personnel bunkers and storage bunkers will be still further behind them. We'll start on those as soon as we finish here."

Beckett was furious. "You're digging us in? Against what? Have you seen one, even one person, who is going to attack us?" She yelled.

"Having been here a bit longer than you, yes I have seen people who have wanted to attack us. And they did. They killed people and I will not let that happen here."

"You are also desecrating an archeological site. The dirt and sand that you are so casually disturbing should be carefully examined with trowels and brushes by my archeological team. You're destroying thousands of years of history to justify your own arrogance and military ego. I will not stand for this. I'm the head of this expedition and I order you to stop this at once. At once! Do you understand?"

"Have you read the contract between Duquesne and the Republic of Niger?" Rick asked, controlling his temper.

"What?" Beckett screamed.

"The contract. It's in French, but I'm sure you can find a copy of it somewhere. Specifically, Chapter twenty-three. It states you are solely under the jurisdiction of the Republic of Niger, and that you are further subject to the orders of the Nigerien military, and the militaries of the NATO alliance, the European Union, and specifically the orders of the military of the Republic of France, and the United States of America, in all matters military, and any disputes will be resolved in favor of the concerned military. I've made a military decision and it stands. Period!"

Beckett glared at him with all her might, but he didn't react. She turned on her heel and headed for her tent, with Dr. Bradley close behind.

A half an hour later, Mr. Reed went to get Rick. "Sir, you gotta come see this."

Rick followed Reed back to the almost finished command bunker where Reed had a sniper's spotting scope set up. "Take a look through here, sir. Dr. Beckett has their satellite phone set up and she's called someone. She doesn't look happy."

Rick looked through the scope. Dr. Beckett did not look at all happy. She was stomping around her tent with the handset of the satellite phone in one hand and with the other hand, she was gesturing towards Rick's position. He watched her for several minutes until she suddenly threw the phone down, glared in Rick's direction and stormed back into her tent.

"Anything we can do?" Rick asked.

"I told the engineers and the Rangers helping them to be on the lookout for any kind of Roman archeological remains."

"And?"

"They all asked me what Roman archeological remains looked like. I have no idea. How about you?"

"Not a clue. But we do have experts over there."

"You gonna go over and ask her to drop by and watch us desecrate the place?"

"I guess. I'll take one of the quad bikes."

"Good idea. You can make a quick getaway on one, sir."

Rick rode over to the archeological dig. Dr. Beckett had heard him coming and came out of her tent at once. "What do you want? Oh, let me guess. You want us to build you a ramp so you can jump that thing over our dig."

"No, I'm trying to think of a way to help you. You could send some of your people over to us and watch while we dig and tell us to stop if they see anything of interest. A lot of the remaining work on the bunkers were working on now will be done with shovels. We're going to use the spoil to fill sandbags. You could run the spoil through those screen things of yours to screen out anything of interest to you."

Dr. Beckett was so angry she couldn't speak. She was turning red in the face. "Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea….No, you have no idea how absurd your suggestion is, do you? You are completely…OH! I don't even know what you are, but…Just get out of here."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Beckett. My job is to protect you and I intend to do my job. I was just doing my best to help you do yours."

"Your job is to protect us? I beg your pardon, but I heard your job is to set up some kind of a CIA spy station and you're using us as an excuse to be here."

"We have an electronic listening post here. We were going to have to come here anyway, due to Senator Souder's interest. So, we might as well kill two birds with one stone."

Dr. Beckett stared at him for a long time. Rick was about to leave when she spoke.

"It's like the old joke about the crooked poker game, isn't it?"

"The what?" Rick was mystified.

"Everybody in town knows the game is crooked but they go because it's the…"

"Only game in town." Rick and Kate said together. Rick almost thought he saw a tiny, brief smile on her face.

"I won't find anything if I don't send some people to you, but I might if I take your offer. I'll have some people ready to go in an hour."

"I'll send a Humvee over in an hour then. Good day, Dr. Beckett."

"Good day, Captain Rodgers."


	5. Chapter 5

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Later that day, Sergeant Xochomillo was doing his own work when one of the Rangers spoke. "Sarge, the lady archeologist is coming."

Sure enough, Dr. Beckett was headed straight for him. She didn't look happy, but, he reflected, she didn't look mad.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded.

"Ma'am, I'm making a machine gun range card and the four of them are building a sangar."

"What are those?"

Xochomillo held up the range card. "This is like a small map of the area in front of my gun. I mark places that I may need to shoot, both deflection and range, then I…"

"What's a sangar?" She asked.

"A small fort built of rocks. We build them when the ground is too hard to dig in. Like here. We're putting most of the sangars here on the east side of this rock. There's two places on the next rock where they can shoot at us. That spire looking thing some 600 meters away and the ridge, 800 meters away."

"Captain Rodgers told me I could have my people monitor any…building here. Did he tell you anything about that?"

"No, ma'am. The captain didn't send me here. Sergeant Hobbes did."

"Can you call Captain Rodgers and tell him I want one of my people here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Xochomillo got on the radio and quickly got permission for one of Dr. Beckett's people to look for any archeological treasures.

"I'll have someone over here in five minutes. Is this sangar all you're building?" Beckett asked.

"We're going to fill some sandbags to use to steady the gun, ma'am."

"I'll have that checked as well." Beckett said and walked off towards the dig only a few hundred meters away.

"Great ass." One Ranger said softly.

"Yeah, "Xochomillo said. "And don't even think about saying that where she or any of them others can hear you. Take five until we get someone here."

In less than two minutes a young woman was headed for them. She was rather tall, but slim, with nice legs, shown off by a pair of cutoffs, with short blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Hi, I'm Chris Sullivan. I'm here to watch you guys. "She giggled. "That sounds awful, like I'm just here to watch while you do all the work. Oh, can I see that rock please?" Without waiting, she picked up a medium size stone. "Look! This one has what looks like chisel marks on it. I'll put it over here."

Xochomillo put his team back to work. One of them, Specialist Billy Hebert, was sure that the blonde was the girl he'd given a brat to. _She's damned nice looking, but if I so much as smile at her, Xochomillo will be all over my ass and all the other NCOs above him will get their turn. Fuck a bunch of non-fraternization. _

The sergeant worked on his range card and the four Rangers stacked the rocks up into a chest high barricade. Only one other rock had interested Chris Sullivan and Hebert was angry that another guy had found it and given it to her.

"We're gonna fill some sandbags now, Miss. Did you want to run them through some kind of a screen?"

"Oh, damn. I forgot to bring the screen. Can you wait just a second?"

Xochomillo nodded. "Hebert, go with her and carry her stuff for her."

When they were a ways away from the sangar, Hebert spoke. "I gave you a bratwurst at the barbecue, didn't I?"

"That was you? Thanks. Everyone has been bitching about Dr. Bradley's food selection. It's all very healthy, or so he says, but it's mostly tasteless. Could you get me some more brats?"

Hebert shook his head. "We're all out. Living on MREs and whatever care packages we get. A guy in my squad got a whole box of cookies from his mom. They were all busted up by the time we got them, but they were good. Not home cooking, though."

"Where is home? I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"I'm Specialist Billy Hebert, from Meaux, Louisiana."

Chris giggled. "From that accent, I didn't think you were from South Boston."

They had reached the site of the dig. "This is the screen I need. It isn't very big. I could have carried it myself." She looked at Billy. "Tell you what. I'll grab us some cold bottled waters, enough for everyone. Okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Chis ducked off between two tents. She was back in a minute with a backpack full of bottled water.

"Do you suppose some of us could come over sometime and try these MREs? I don't know what they are, but they'd have to at least be different from what we get now."

Regretfully, Billy shook his head. "We're not supposed to fraternize with you people. I don't think the captain and Dr. Beckett and Dr. Bradley get along. The captain said it'll cause less friction if we keep apart."

"That sucks." Chris said. "But I know that Dr. Bradley tells us all the time that you guys are just a bunch of animals. He doesn't like you guys at all. I don't know about Dr. Beckett. I did overhear her say your captain was hot."

"Dr. Beckett is hot, but so are you."

Chris blushed. "So, what are MREs? I mean I've heard the term, but that's all."

Billy pulled a brown plastic bag from his pocket. "They're meals ready to eat, or meals rejected by everyone. I got this for breakfast this morning. Hash browns with bacon, granola, apple turnover and peanuts. Plus some kind of fake orange juice and coffee. I ate all of that, but I still have the cheese spread and crackers. Before we came downrange, we bought some real coffee and the squad has a portable coffee maker. It's better than the MRE shit."

"But we can't get together because it would cause friction?"

"I can only talk to you now on account I'm on duty carrying your screen for you."

"So, if I should just happen to walk over by the west edge of the mesa tonight about 10:00, and you just happened to be there, and I needed to know about MRE's, you'd have to tell me, right?"

Billy was sure that was wrong, but be nodded anyway.

Chris smiled. "We need to get back."

Meanwhile, on the western side of the rock…

"Did my brother send you over here?"

Sergeant McAllen stood up to see a short, stocky but muscular woman peering over the edge of his sangar.

"No, ma'am. The US Army sent me here."

That got a glare. "My brother, Hugh Glass, is some sort of …something with you people. Did he send you over to build this….What the hell is this thing anyway."

"It's a kind of an above ground mortar pit for my weapon, and Lieutenant Glass is out platoon leader."

"Well that thing is pointing right at us. If it went off it'd hit us."

"Actually, ma'am, it's pointed upwards. If it was fired, the shell would land on the next rock to the east."

"Did someone from the dig approve of this?" She demanded.

"We had some fellow named Max from your people watch us and make sure we didn't use anything you people needed."

"You can see right into our tents from here. I demand you demolish this at once."

"I can't do that, ma'am."

"Well, I can." She grabbed a big rock, but overbalanced and fell backwards, dropping the rock on her foot.

McAllen and his mortar team vaulted over the sangar. "I think you're hurt. I'd better call the medics."

Glass shot to her feet. "I refuse to be touched by any of you." She headed back to the dig's camp, limping badly.

Sergeant Rios watched her go. "Maybe we'd better think again about a protective detail for the LT, if that's his sister."

McAllen shook his head. He had grown up the only boy in his family with five older sisters. He had joined the Army because he found it more peaceful, and quiet than his home life. "If they're family, they'll kick and scratch and yell at each other, but nothing more."

"Hope so." Someone muttered.

When it was well after sunset, Billy Hebert grabbed his flak vest, helmet, night vision goggles and M-4 carbine and headed for the west edge of the rock. Tucked into his flak vest was an MRE pouch, lemon pepper tuna.

Pulling on his NVGs, he walked towards where Chris said she'd be waiting. In a few minutes, he saw her kneeling between several very large rocks. He walked very quietly up to her and when he was just on the other side of one rock, he called out. "Hi, Chris."

She jumped. "Billy, is that you?"

"Who were you expecting?"

"How did you find me? I can hardly see you and you're right on top of me."

"Ranger magic. I've got night vision goggles on." He took them off and held them to her face. "Take a look."

"That is so cool. It's just like on the TV news."

"I got you a meal, lemon pepper tuna. Remember, we have to be very quiet. Sounds carry in the desert at night. I picked this because you don't have to cook it."

"You're not eating with me?"

He shook his head, then remembered she couldn't see him. "I ate already. But we also have some pound cake, cheese spread, tortillas, lemon-lime powder and M&Ms. The Mexican guys say the tortillas aren't anything like_ mama _makes, but they're okay, I guess."

Chris dug into the MRE and Billy snacked on M&Ms.

"This is a lot better than what Dr. Bradley got for us. Tonight, we had some kind of stew. It was gluten free, vegetarian, free range, fair trade and responsibly farmed. It tasted like cardboard in soapy water."

Chris ate until everything was gone. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Have you ever been, you know, in combat?"

"No. About a quarter of the guys in the platoon have been, but most of us haven't. But we're all trained for it."

"What kind of training do you do?"

"I started off in the Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia, then Airborne School, where I learned to jump out of airplanes and then Ranger School, which is about two months long. Then I went to the Ranger Regiment. And now, here I am."

"What exactly do you do?"

"I'm a rifleman."

"Aren't everyone riflemen?"

"No. The smallest maneuver unit is the fireteam, four people. There's the team leader, he's got an M-4 carbine like I do, but he's in charge of the other three guys. Next is the SAW gunner. That's a squad automatic weapon, sometimes called a light machine gun. He has the most firepower. Then there's the grenadier. He's also got an M-4, but he has a 40mm grenade launcher under the barrel of his M-4. Two fireteams, plus a squad leader, make a squad. A platoon is three squads and a machine gun squad. Now, our platoon has the LT, that is Lt. Glass, a platoon sergeant, a radio operator and a medic. Since we're out here by ourselves, we have more machine guns, a sniper team, a mortar squad, recoiless rifle team and more medics. Plus we have a Special Forces A detachment. Or, they have us, I guess."

Chris moved herself onto Billy's lap. "You know, Billy, you talk too much." She leaned in and kissed him.

Billy agreed with her and began kissing her back. He had just unhooked her bra when she pushed herself away from him. "We need to be careful, babe. I'm afraid I get a little loud when I have sex with a guy."

Billy sighed. "Yeah. The last thing I need is for someone to catch us. I'd end up filling sandbags all day and pulling guard duty all night. That would suck."

Chris giggled. "Suck? You know, I couldn't make much noise if my mouth was full." She started undoing his pants. "How about you, babe? Can you stay quiet?"

"You can't believe how quiet I can be."

Neither one of them made a sound.


	6. Chapter 6

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Rick was happy after their third full day on the rock. The engineers had done their thing and had loaded up their equipment and helicoptered out just before sunset. All that was left now was some housekeeping for the various bunkers to make them more livable and more workable. He looked around his command bunker and smiled. He had his radio net set up so he could talk to his subordinate units, his boss back at _base aerienne_ 201, and he could keep track of any aircraft in his area. In addition, he had drones in the air sending back real time images of the area around him and fixed sensors keeping track of any places that jihadis could climb the rock and attack him.

Equally importantly, they had the team coffee maker and mini-fridge hooked up to the generator.

All in all, he felt pretty good.

He knew that couldn't last. He was right.

"Sir," Warrant Officer Reed stuck his head into the bunker, "you're going to want to see this."

Rick stepped outside and looked to the north, where Reed was pointing.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Where do those morons think they are?"

The archeologist's camp was lit up like a Christmas tree. Every tent had a light inside of it and there was a large fire by the dig itself. A half a dozen people were listening to loud rock music and dancing around the fire.

"I'll take an ATV and go shut that down." Rick said.

When he arrived at Dr. Beckett's tent, she was sitting outside working on a laptop with an electric light beside her. Both were powered by the dig's own generator.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to have you turn off the lights, Dr. Beckett. You people make a perfect target like this."

"And I'm afraid I'll have to decline your request, Captain Rodgers." She said politely.

"I explained to you about Chapter Twenty-Three, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. But I read the entire contract with the legal department of Duquesne University. Chapter Thirty of the contract says that the internal organization, work arrangements and operations of the dig are completely under the control of the leader of the dig. That's me. And I say that we need lights at night so that we can do needed paperwork and reports after working on the site in the daytime."

"And I disagree. Dr. Beckett, I'm going to ask you…"

"And I'm going to refuse. And before you start something with me, I suggest you talk to your commander. The legal department has already sent our position to the Pentagon. I assure you that the lawyers have assured me that I'm in the right here."

"Being in the right won't do you much good if you and your people are all dead."

"We've explained to the locals that we're a scientific expedition and not a threat to them. Your people, on the other hand, are a threat to them. Captain, I've been in Africa before, probably longer than you have. I know what I'm doing."

"The coastal regions of Kenya aren't the Air Mountains of Niger. I submit that you have no idea what you're doing."

"But I do have the law on my side. So, if you don't mind, I have work to do." Beckett's eyes went back to her laptop.

Rick rode back to his command bunker and got on the radio. "Do you know what Dr. Beckett is doing?" He demanded of the colonel.

"I just got briefed by the Defense Attaché in Niamey. She's got her dig lit up like a night time firing range and is refusing to turn the lights off?"

"Exactly. And I need to shut the damned lights off before she gets her whole damned team killed. Will you back me on this?"

Sadly, the colonel shook his head. "It's out of my hands, Rick. There's a legal team from the Pentagon reviewing the legal opinion they got from Duquesne's lawyers."

"Jesus, sir, by the time a bunch of JAG officers get through reading the damned thing, it'll be too late."

"It's not being reviewed by Judge Advocate General people, Rick. The Pentagon's top civilian lawyers are reviewing it."

"None of whom have ever been in combat, I guess?" He said sarcastically.

"Probably."

"What about Senator Souder? He can't want a bunch of archeology students shot up."

The colonel shrugged. "From what I understand, he's being a typical politician about this. He's on both sides of the issue. He appreciates Dr. Beckett's position and he understands our concerns. But, he feels it's a legal matter between us, Dr. Beckett and the Government of Niger."

"Can the Nigerien government do anything? They don't want a massacre up here."

"They don't want to step on the toes of an influential US Senator either."

Rick thought for a moment, but had no further ideas. "So, when things turn to shit, I'm the guy who'll be lip deep in the shit with the tide coming in."

'We'll do our best to protect you, Rick, but…"

Rick nodded. "I know. If there's a US Senator baying for my head, no one is going to be much of a help. Thank you, sir. I'd better get busy doing what I can to prepare for what's going to happen."

Rick called his team, Lt. Glass and his platoon sergeant, Sergeant Hobbes, Lt. Diori, and Dr. Fields together. He explained the impasse with Dr. Beckett. "We've put sangars up around the dig, but we've refrained from manning them so as not to piss off Dr. Beckett and her people any more than we have to. That's got to change. I want the sangars nearest the eastern rock manned with one fire team and one machine gun team. We'll need to keep one squad and two machine guns in the bunkers covering the best way up here. An attack on the dig could be a feint to draw us away. Lt. Glass, have your other squads and heavy weapons teams check the sangars and get familiar with them. Have a drone check the eastern rock, especially the rock spire and the ridgeline for any sign of occupation. Anyone not in the southern or eastern areas will be our reserve. Any questions?" No one had any.

As it turned out, Rick had three days to get ready. On the third night, while asleep in the command bunker, he was woken up by the sound of automatic weapons fire. He shot to his feet and saw that Lt. Glass was already on the radios, arranging the defense.

"Sir, I've sent the rest of second squad to the sangars by the dig along with a machine gun team and the sniper team. I've got the mortar team up and ready, firing on preregistered targets on the eastern rock. As soon as I'm sure that there'll be no other attack, I want to move two Humvees over, one with a Ma Deuce and one with the minigun. Okay?"

Rick nodded. "Just like we planned it. I'm going to go outside and take a look around." Rick grabbed his flak jacket, helmet and M-4 and left the bunker. He flipped his night vision goggles down over one eye and looked to the north. He could hear screams as well as the sound automatic weapons fire: Mostly fully automatic fire incoming and single shot and short bursts of fire from his people. He wasn't sure, but he thought that the lights were still on in Dr. Beckett's tent. He heard the _thunk_ of the mortar being fired, followed by an explosion on the eastern rock.

He stuck his head back into the command bunker. "I'm going up there to take a look around. Everything okay here?"

Lt. Glass nodded. "So far, so good, sir."

"Let me know if you need me." He tapped his radio and was gone.

Just outside of the command bunker a machine gun team was loading onto an ATV. "Got room for one more?" He asked,

"Always room for one more, sir." The driver turned his head. "Loomis, get your skinny ass on the handlebars and don't you drop even one round of my ammo."

A soldier weighed down with ammo boxes climbed on the front of the ATV and Rick jumped on the back. The ATV took off towards the fight in the north.

"We're headed to sangar number seven, sir. That good for you?" The driver asked.

"It'll be just fine."

They arrived at sangar seven and the team piled off and into the sangar. Rick sprinted to the next sangar, which he knew contained the sniper team.

"Sergeant O'Meara, what's happening?" Rick said, dropping beside the sniper and his spotter.

"Got maybe twelve or fifteen jihadis out there, sir. Mostly useless pray and spray types. Fire half a clip, then fire the other half without ever actually aiming. Bullets are going all over, sir. They got no tracers, so they can't see where their rounds go, dumb fuckers." There was a clatter of bullets off of the sangar. "They do have one or two that has an idea, though, sir." Sergeant O'Meara fired. "I'm thinking they brought sand bags with them, sir. They know where the good hides are, too. If we can get someone to correct the mortar fire, that'll slow 'em down." O'Meara fired again.

"Keep at it, sergeant. I'll see what I can do about a forward observer." Rick sprinted to the next sangar, where he found the problem had been solved. The fireteam leader was on the radio to the mortar squad, correcting the fall of shot. Rick kept going.

Ten meters from Dr. Beckett's tent, Rick dropped to his belly and began crawling. Someone who had an idea was shooting up Beckett's tent.

"Dr. Beckett? Are you in there?"

No answer.

"Dr. Beckett, are you wounded? Are you okay?"

"They're shooting at me." She called out.

Rick crawled to the front of her tent and opened the tent flap. Beckett was on the right side of the tent, prone, behind a large wooden crate. He could hear rounds impacting the crate. Beckett's light was still on her desk, illuminating the tent for the shooter.

"Dr. Beckett, you have to turn off the light."

"I can't. If I stand up to turn it off, I'll get shot." As she spoke, a bullet zipped through the lampshade.

"Reach around the crate. Your light is plugged into a light strip by the crate. Just reach over and pull the plug, okay?"

She reached around the crate and pulled a plug. Her computer went off.

"What happened?" She asked. "Why didn't the light go out?"

"Wrong plug. Pull the other one."

"I don't want to get shot."

"I don't want you to get shot, Dr. Beckett. Just reach around and pull the plug."

She did and the tent was plunged into darkness. Rick waited for a few seconds and heard a bullet zip past the outside of the tent. "They don't have a light to use as an aimpoint now. They don't know where you are. Now, I want you to crawl back to me so we can get out of here. Okay?"

Dr. Beckett began to crawl out of the tent backwards.

"Okay, now get on my right." Rick said.

"Why your right?"

"We're going to crawl to the next sangar, which is to our right. I have a flak jacket and a helmet on. Hopefully, anything that hits me will get stopped and not hit you."

"I'm sorry, Captain Rodgers. I'm so very sorry."

"We can worry about that later. I'm going to put one arm around you to guide you and we're going to crawl to the sangar. You can see it by the muzzle flashes, right?"

"I can see it."

As they crawled, Rick discovered that Dr. Beckett had a very firm, muscular stomach. For just a second, he wondered what the rest of her felt like. Then a bullet hit in front of them and he got his mind back on business.

"Okay, we're at the sangar. Just crawl forward and we'll be under cover." Once there, Rick relaxed a little.

"What's happening, Sergeant?"


	7. Chapter 7

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

"The little cocksuckers have played this game before, sir. They're too far away for my grenadier to drop one on their asses and the motherfuckers keep moving." The sergeant yelled at his SAW gunner. "Dammit, Red, will you shoot at their fucking muzzle flashes."

The gunner fired two short bursts. "Every fucking time I try, the little shits move on me. Let me do my fucking job and quit yelling at me." He fired another short burst and yelled. "I saw sparks, like I hit metal. I hope I fucked his whole day up."

"Keep your team at it."

"Will do, sir."

Rick crawled over to Beckett. "Okay, I'm going to take you back to the command bunker. Ready?"

She shook her head. "No."

"No? Are you hurt?"

"I can't go to the command bunker."

"Why not?"

She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. "I peed in my pants."

He whispered back. "Christ, Beckett. Every soldier has done that, or worse. When the Sumerians went off to conquer their empire five thousand years ago, half of the spearmen were wetting their loincloths. And when the ranks fall in for Armageddon at the End of Days, they'll be doing the same. Don't worry about it."

"I'm a woman in a profession dominated by very macho men. If I show up in the command bunker looking like this, I'll always be known as the _girl_ who peed in her pants. This is my first serious dig that I'm running by myself. I will not have my career ruined. I'll stay here. You go back to the command bunker."

"I'm not leaving you out here with no body armor and no weapon in the middle of a firefight. You come with me. No one will say a thing."

"The hell they won't."

"You're a very stubborn woman, Dr. Beckett."

She made no reply.

"Okay, we're going to crawl twenty meters back to dip in the ground. It's deep enough so you won't get hit by any direct fire. You stay there and I'll crawl back to your tent and get some clean shorts and underwear for you."

"No! You could get shot. I won't…"

"Yes, you will. I'm not arguing with you anymore. This is a military operation and you do as I say. Understand?"

Once they had crawled to the dip, Rick made sure the dip was deep enough to keep Beckett from being hit. "Okay, stay right there."

"Wait!" She called to him.

"Wait? What for?"

"I'm taking off my wet things. Don't look."

"I won't look. Where are your clean clothes?"

"Here." She handed him her wet shorts and panties. "In a set of drawers to the left as you go in. Top drawer."

Rick crawled to the tent, wondering how he had managed to get involved with this woman. He tossed her wet things on the bed and got fresh clothes for her. Then he crawled back.

"Don't look." She said.

He decided not to say anything.

"I'm ready." She said, sticking her head up over the dip.

"Okay, let's get…" Suddenly a familiar person loomed up out of the night. "Myron? Captain Fields, what the fuck do you think you're doing out here?"

"There are wounded out here."

"So you came here without your protective vest, helmet and with no weapon? You should be in the medical bunker waiting for the medics to bring in the wounded. That's the way it works." Rick yelled angrily.

"I do have my medical bag." Dr Fields said quietly.

That doesn't mean a damned thing if you're dead. Now get…"

Rick was interrupted by the arrival of an ATV. "Captain Fields? I got two wounded here. Can you ride on the handlebars?" The driver asked.

Fields looked at Rick.

"Go on. Get the hell out of here. We'll talk later."

As the ATV roared off, Rick pulled Beckett out of the dip. "I'm going to give you my flak jacket and helmet, then we'll…"

"No." She interrupted.

"No? Are you afraid someone will complain because you wore body armor in a firefight?"

"No, but if you get shot, I won't know what to do or where to go. You keep the body armor and take care of me. Okay?"

"You are without a doubt…."

"The stubbornest woman you've ever met." She finished for him. "Can we go now?"

He put his right arm around her and pulled her close. This close, he smelled cherries in her hair.

During the walk back to the command bunker, Rick heard the heavy beat of the .50 caliber machine gun. He managed to turn his head far enough to see the Humvee mounted gun blasting the spire formation on the eastern rock formation. He wondered where the minigun was.

Because of his night vision goggles, Rick could see where he was going and tried to guide Beckett as bullets zipped by. Even so, she stumbled a few times, but both stayed upright and moving.

Finally, they were almost there.

"Dr. Beckett, we're going down some steps. Then there'll be two curtains. We'll make sure one is closed behind us before we open the inner one. That way no light will leak out and give away our position. Understand?"

Beckett took his arm. "Thank you for coming after me tonight. And I intend to apologize publicly to you for not listening to you. I really am very, very sorry for all of this. Both my students and your troops are in danger because of me."

"From my point of view, we're getting shot at because that's what jihadis do. You did give them a better target though, Dr. Beckett."

"Can you please start calling me Kate?"

"Okay, and I'm Rick. Now let's get into the bunker."

Warrant Officer Reed called to Rick as soon as they were inside. "Sir, you'll want to see this. We've got a drone up and the minigun is about to unload."

"Where the hell have they been?" Rick demanded. "I expected they'd be there when the other Humvee got there."

Lt. Glass answered. "They got stuck in a big fucking pothole. The crew had to lift the thing out. But look…."

Rick's eyes went to the feed from the drone. What looked like a solid red line ran from the minigun and hosed the ridgeline on the eastern mountain in bright red. The bullets ricocheted in all directions as they hit the rocks.

"Are those all bullets?" Kate asked, stunned by the sight.

Rick shook his head. "What you can see are just the tracers. There's one tracer round out of every five rounds. The minigun fires about two thousand rounds per minute. If that doesn't kill them, it's sure going to scare the shit out of them."

They watched for another few minutes as the minigun worked over the mountain. Then one of the drone operators spoke. "They're running, sir. They're headed down the far side of that damned rock as fast as they can go. Do you want me to spot some mortar fire on them?"

Rick shook his head. "As steep as that thing is, if we missed them by six inches, the round would keep going to the bottom before it exploded. We don't have that much mortar ammo. We'll keep it for when we have a better chance of hitting something."

Rick turned to Lt. Glass. "Get your people to cease firing. I'm betting there's no one left over there."

Rick was just starting to relax when he heard a high-pitched scream from outside.

"That's a woman's scream." Kate said, heading for the bunker's exit.

Rick grabbed her. "It's probably from the medical bunker. You stay here. I'll go."

She pulled his hand off of her. "If it's a woman, it's one of my students. I'm going."

Rick started to say something, but thought better of it. "Mr. Reed, we're borrowing your flak jacker and helmet."

As Rick helped Kate into the body armor, Reed smiled. "Never looked that good on me, sir."

As they left the command bunker, Rick took Kate's hand without thinking. When he realized what he'd done, he tried to let her hand go, but she held on tightly. Once inside the medical bunker, they found one of the women from the dig laying on a stretcher, screaming. "Oh, God! It hurts so bad. I'm going to die, I know it. I don't want to die. I'm too damned young to die. Why did I come here? Why didn't I stay in New York?"

"How bad is she hurt, Myron?" Rick asked.

Myron shook his head. "She broke her wrist, but every time I try to give her something to knock her out so I can set it, she starts trying to hit me."

Kate walked over to the woman. "Laura?" The woman made no reply, but began sobbing. "Laura! Laura Glass! You're going to be okay. You just need the doctor to…"

"Oh, God! Dr. Becket, I'm in agony. I'm dying. I know it."

"Laura, the doctor is just going to…"

Fields was hovering in the background with a hypodermic needle.

Laura screamed. "I've seen this in the movies. When you're going to die, they give you a fatal dose of morphine so you die quietly and don't upset the other patients. Don't let them kill me, Kate, please. I want to live. I want to go home!"

As Laura screamed, Kate turned to the doctor. "If Captain Rodgers and I hold her arms, can you give her a shot?"

"Absolutely."

She looked at Rick. "Let's do it, then."

They both grabbed Laura and the doctor gave her a shot. Laura kept screaming for a while, then passed out.

"Thank god I can do some work now." Myron said.

"How about your other patients, Myron?" Rick asked.

Dr. Fields began setting Laura's wrist. "The worst are Sergeant Woods and Specialist Dobbler. Woods has a through and through GSW to the right thigh. Missed the femoral artery and the femur. We'll be medevacking him out tomorrow. Dobbler got sprayed with some rock fragments when a bullet hit his sangar, one piece of rock went into his eye. Luckily, it was a small fragment, but he'll go out with Woods as well. I can't do anything about it here."

"The others?" Rick asked.

"Mr. Blum, from the dig, was dancing around the fire when the firefight began. He sensibly dropped to the ground. Not so sensibly, he dropped on top of the fire. First degree burns to the stomach and the forearms. I'll treat him here, as well as PFC. Martinez who got hit in the helmet, but not the head. He has a strained neck and a bad headache. I'll keep him here for a while. Since you've been treated by a doctor, that's me, Martinez, you'll have a Purple Heart as well as Woods and Dobbler. Sorry, Blum, nothing for you."

Blum laughed. "Just as long as the story doesn't get out about how I got injured."

Kate laughed too. "When you get back to Duquesne, you can tell everyone you were throwing blazing logs at terrorists, and no one will contradict you."

They were interrupted by a radio call asking that Rick and Kate return to the command bunker.

"Captain Fields, we're going to have a talk about your actions tonight, but you're going to be busy tonight, so it'll keep until tomorrow. But we _will_ have a talk."

Once in the command bunker, Rick found one of the Ranger medics, Sergeant Johnstone, sporting the makings of a first-class black eye. Standing by him was a tall, leggy blonde.

"What happened, Johnstone?"

"Sir, I was just trying to do my job."

"I saw everything, Dr. Beckett. Everything."

"What happened, Chris?" Kate asked.


	8. Chapter 8

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

"It's Dr. Bradley. As soon as the shooting started, he came flying out of his tent wearing nothing but his boxers. He ran straight into our porta-potties and knocked two of them over. He must have thought they were attacking him because he started hitting them. He knocked them all over and they fell down into the little hollow and…" Chris stopped.

"All the shit flowed out of them, sir." Johnstone finished.

Chris, the blonde, went on. "He's in complete panic mode, Dr. Beckett. He's screaming that the terrorists are all over and he's…he's…"

"Laying down in the shit and throwing shit and rocks at anyone who comes near him. I got to him from behind, and he has no wounds, sir. But then he clocked me with a rock. Let me have a couple of big guys and I can drag him out, but all concerned are going to get beat up. Open wounds with human feces in them will get infected, sure as shit."

Kate sighed. "He's my responsibility. I'll go get him."

"I have all the medics. _We'll_ go get him. Sergeant Johnstone, you've done enough for one night. Get some rest." He turned to Warrant Officer Reed. "Ron Barber is over in the med bunker. Get him over here." He turned back to Kate. "Sergeant Barber is my senior medic. If anyone can handle this, he can."

"Sir, "Lt. Glass said, "we have a Humvee outside. You can ride up to the dig in style."

They drove to the dig and found four Rangers surrounding Dr. Bradley, at a safe distance. The senior Ranger walked up to Rick. "Sir, he's still down there and he's still throwing shit, literally, and screaming."

Rick could hear and see that for himself. "You haven't tried to get him out?"

"No, sir. We're just making sure that he doesn't fall over and drown in the shit."

Rick shook his head and headed toward where Bradley was. He was stopped when Kate put her hand on his arm. "He's my responsibility. Too many people have already been hurt tonight because of me." She went as close to Bradley as she could and called to him. "Charles! It's me, Kate Beckett. You can come out now. The terrorists are gone. It's safe. Come on out and we'll clean you up."

A rock sailed by Kate's head, followed by a burst of profanity. Kate tried to get through to him for another five minutes before giving up.

"I can't get through to him. I think we should just leave him there until he calms down enough to get out by himself."

Rick turned to Sergeant Barber. "How long is this going to last? Any ideas?"

Barber shrugged. "I'm surprised the adrenaline rush has lasted as long as it has. I don't know anything about his prior medical condition, but he could be having a psychotic break."

Kate interrupted. "We all had to pass very strict medical exams and a review of our medical records to get here. I can't imagine he could conceal a psychiatric illness like that."

Barber nodded. "When the adrenaline wears off, the result is the opposite, extreme lethargy. He may even go to sleep on us, sir."

"Any chance he could drown in that shit?"

"Just a small one. But we can keep a fire team watching him and keep a closer eye on him once he goes quiet on us."

"Okay, I'll have Lt. Glass detail a fireteam to keep an eye on him and switch off at one-hour intervals." Rick turned to Kate. "I'm going to keep the southern machine gun bunkers fully manned all night and I'll keep the northern sangars manned as well. That'll free up two of the personnel bunkers. I don't think the jihadis will be back, but I think all of your people will sleep a lot better tonight inside a nice cozy bunker. In addition, if you approve, we do have building materials left over, so we can build two more personnel bunkers for your people. The engineers and their heavy equipment have left, but all of my people have e-tools. Those are entrenching tools. They can dig."

Kate smiled. "Thank you. My people can do shovel work as well. Let me get them all headed to your bunkers. And thank you again for all you've done for us, and for me, tonight."

Kate got her people into the bunkers and after they settled down, they all had a good night's sleep.

Rick was woken by Mr. Reed. "Sir, you need to get up. There's something going on with the archeology folks."

"Can it wait until I've had a cup of coffee?" Rick grumped.

"I dunno. Bradley is awake, cleaned up and raising hell with Dr. Beckett. You might want to go take a quick look. I'll bring you a nice cup of our good coffee. And one for Dr. Beckett, too."

Rick grabbed his protective vest, helmet and weapon. He could hear Bradley yelling as soon as he stepped out of the command bunker. He was screaming that everything was Beckett's fault. All of the members of the dig were outside, listening. None of Rick's soldiers were around, but Lieutenant Diori was sitting on an empty ammo case, watching with a smile on his face.

"All of this is your fault, Beckett. You led us to this hellhole, filled with murderers and all we have for protection is a bunch of incompetent clowns. The attack last night was your fault and yours alone. When I get back to Duquesne, I'll make sure you never lead a dig again."

To Rick's surprise, Lt. Diori began clapping. "Oh, brilliant, sir. Who would have thought that jihadism in the Sahel was due to one lone woman? Thank you for pointing this out to us. Could you give us some evidence of your discoveries?" He said sarcastically.

Bradley turned on Diori. "Don't think I'm going to leave your part in this out. You may be fooling the idiot Americans in this country, but you can't fool me. I'm sure that like all the rest of the third world thugs out there, you're robbing us blind and helping the other side. I'm on to you."

Diori smiled coldly. "Perhaps you should have more time to learn of my country, Mr. Bradley. A call to my uncle in Niamey could perhaps find problems with your passport and visa. These things happen in countries led by thugs and traitors. You could be here for months."

"You wouldn't dare!" Bradley screamed.

Rick spoke up. "I'll make sure that Lt. Diori uses his influence to get you out of Niger as soon as possible. The sooner the better."

"Do you think your own incompetence is going to go unnoticed in this?" Bradley screamed. "You should have had every one of your people between us and those terrorists on the next mountain."

"Your opinion is doubtlessly based on your vast military experience?"

Bradley whirled around to face the dig crew. "If any of you value your lives and careers, you'll do as I did, resign from this farce of a dig and return to the US with me. Well? Are you coming?"

There was some shuffling of feet, but no one went with Bradley. Even Laura Glass, with her arm in a sling, stayed put.

"Sir," Mr. Reed said, "the medevac chopper is fifteen minutes out. Dr. Fields is moving the wounded to the LZ now. If Mr. Bradley is going with them, he should head there now."

Bradley looked around, then left as fast as he could.

As soon as Bradley was out of earshot, Kate spoke to the dig crew. "I have a few things to say. First, I need to apologize to Captain Rodgers for not listening to him. Captain, I am very, very sorry for ignoring your advice. What happened last night was all my fault."

Rick grinned. "As I said last night, I think the jihadis were more responsible for last night, but your apology is accepted."

"Thank, you. Secondly, Captain Rodgers has suggested we'd be safer staying here at night rather than in our tents at the dig. I agree. And, the captain has generously offered to have his men help us with building the bunkers for us, although I expect everyone of you to pitch in, as I will."

"Dr. Beckett, before we get too far along in this project, my troops have either been on watch, or sleeping by their weapons in their bunkers and sangars, all night. I need to let them sleep a bit. So, we'll start the building tomorrow. In the meantime, I've been advised that the CH-47 that's taking out our wounded will be bringing in ground beef, hotdogs, bratwursts, and chicken breasts in addition to a couple of tubs of potato salad and even some ice cream. We'll be having a barbecue later in the afternoon."

That raised everyone's morale.

Kate scanned her crew. "Any questions?"

Chris raised her hand. "I can understand that a no fraternization rule could work with each of us at opposite ends of the mountain, but with us living among the soldiers, it doesn't make any sense to me. How are we not going to fraternize if we're eating with them?" Chris was proud of the fact that she never once looked at Billy, who, with a half a dozen other Rangers had come to watch.

Rick could see her point, but still worried about the effect a number of good looking young women would have on the Rangers. "I can see your point, miss. For the time being, I'll suspend the no fraternization rule." He turned to look at the few Rangers who were about. "But if there are any problems, the rule can be put back in place."

As the people drifted away, Mr. Reed came out of the command bunker with coffee for Rick and Kate. "A cup of coffee for you, sir, and for you, ma'am."

"Thank you." They said in unison, and began sipping their coffee.

"We have a new hero, sir." Reed said, with a smile on his face.

"Who?"

"Why none other than Captain Doctor Myron "Killing" Fields, the man who ran through a deluge of bullets to take the wounded to safety. Did so with nothing but a shirt between him and a bullet, and no weapon, either. They'll probably make a movie about him, _Fields of the Sahel_. I'm hoping they get Samuel L. Jackson to play me. What about you, sir? George Clooney?"

"What Fields did last night was stupid and careless. It could have gotten him killed. He may be a damned good doctor, but he doesn't know shit about being a soldier. And he'd damned well better not ever hear about his new nickname, because if he does, he'll do something else stupid and then he will get killed."

"He won't hear it from me, sir."

However, Rick found out that it was too late when he went to the medical bunker to check on the wounded.

"Did you hear about my nickname, Rick?" Fields asked as soon as Rick came in.

"Do you have any idea how stupid what you did was, Captain Fields? Any fucking idea at all?"

Fields nodded. "Yes, I do. I've put in shifts in ERs before and I know what can happen to people who screw up. It won't happen again, sir."

"It had damned well better not. I do not need a dead heroic doctor, understand?"

"Yes, sir. But look." Fields gestured to his now baggy pants. "I've lost two inches of my stomach."

"No one ever gained weight eating MREs in Africa." Rick commented.

"And I'm thinking of getting hair plugs for my receding hairline. Just imagine me going back to New York City, all slimmed down and in my dress uniform. That'll absolutely drive my ex crazy."

"Just as long as you keep imagining yourself going back to New York as a live doctor, okay?"

"I won't make the same mistake twice, sir."

"Good. What I came here to tell you is that there's a barbecue later this afternoon. Are your remaining wounded up for it?"

"Damn straight, sir." Martinez yelled.

"Yes, sir. We can all be there."

"Okay, Myron, get back to work.

"Um, Rick? I think I'd like to be called Ron from now on."

"Carry on, Ron."


	9. Chapter 9

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Lt. Diori had been to the local village and reported back to Rick.

"You went to the village? Why didn't you clear it with me?" Rick demanded.

"Because this is my country, Captain, not yours."

Rick nodded. "Okay, I can understand that, but I need to know if you leave, okay? I might really need you and your men."

"Certainly, Captain. The _caid _said he knows nothing of the attack on us and swears none of his people were involved."

"Do you believe him?"

DIori smiled. "Not a bit. But from the quality of the attack, I suspect it was organized by bored young men in the village. Just for something to do. Much as teenage gangsters in your country would organize a drive by shooting."

"Gangbangers in the village? Did anything bad happen to the kids?"

"There was no wailing in the village, no show of grief, so I expect no one was killed. Some were doubtlessly wounded, and now, feeling like men, they will be less bored."

"Do you think they'll attack again?"

"No. I think they realized they were lucky to get away as lightly as they did. But, in time, other young men may try."

Rick wondered just how accurate Diori's report was, but as he had no choice but to depend on the Nigerien officer, he shrugged and moved on.

The Special Forces engineering sergeants had made some barbecues out of oil drums they had cut in half. After Dr. Bradley's choices of meals, the dig crew were thrilled to have different food.

Billy Hebert sat down next to Chris and handed her a plate with a hamburger, a hot dog and potato salad on it. "Is this okay, Chris?"

She smiled at him. "It's exactly what I asked for, lover." She lowered her voice. "I might want something else later, though."

Billy just blushed.

Once the sun had gone down, everyone began to drift away from the barbecue. Billy drifted some yards behind Chris when Mr. Reed stopped him. "You seem to have gotten really friendly with that blonde awfully quick, soldier."

Billy had no idea how to reply, but finally stammered out, "I guess."

"Have you been sneaking off with that woman and doing things the captain said you oughtn't do?" Reed growled.

Billy tried to speak, but nothing came put.

"I never did meet a young troop that didn't think with his dick." Reed growled into Billy's ear. "If you don't treat that young lady right, her daddy isn't going to be around to kick your ass, but you can be damned sure I'll be there. You gonna treat her right?"

"Yes, sir." Billy squeaked.

"Get the hell out of here then. And remember, if she's tough enough to come to a shithole like this, she'd make a fine Ranger's woman."

Billy got.

"What happened?" Chris asked when Billy caught up with her. "Why did he stop you? Who is he?"

"That's Warrant Officer Reed, the second in command of the Special Forces team. He knows about us."

"Do we have to stop seeing each other?"

"No. He said if I didn't treat you right, he'd kick my ass."

Chris leaned in and kissed him. "You can tell him not to worry, lover. If you don't treat me right, _I'll_ kick your ass." Then she took his hand and led him off into the darkness.

Meanwhile, Rick was with his team, planning for the new bunkers. "We're going to need more than just two personnel bunkers. We need to dig in their generator and wire their electrical system into ours so that if one generator goes down, the other one will keep us going."

"What'll we do about the food they have?" Sergeant Barber asked. "It's tasteless."

Rick shrugged. "We need to order a lot more hot sauce. We can help them out some with food, but the Army isn't going to keep them supplied."

Billy was happy to volunteer to help dig out one of the personnel bunkers since he would be near Chris. Suddenly, his e-tool hit something. He stopped for a moment. The noise was like hitting something metal. "Hey, I may have found something here."

At once, he was surrounded by archeologists who were in turn pushed aside by Dr. Beckett who began working on whatever Billy had hit with a brush and a very small trowel.

"Oh, I don't believe it." Chris said.

"But there it is." Someone else said.

"Okay, what is it?" Billy asked. It looked like a long lump of rusty metal to him.

Chris kissed him quickly. "I think you've found a spatha."

"Oh, wow." Billy said, only mildly sarcastically. "What's a spatha?"

"A Roman cavalry sword." Dr. Beckett said. "Roman infantry carried a short sword called a gladius, but horsemen needed a longer sword. Roman cavalry swords were called spathas."

"So, this means the Romans were stationed here?" He asked.

"Probably." Chris replied. "But Roman weapons were high quality, especially around the time of the first century of the Common Era. What used to be called AD. So, any local would sell his soul for a good Roman sword. That said, the garrison here was probably an _ala_ of auxiliary cavalry, about the size of a small battalion or so."

Dr. Beckett interrupted Chris. "I want to go over this area very carefully, and get a camera here so we can get photos of the find _in situ_." She smiled at Chris. "And, Chris? You can give your boyfriend a better kiss. This is a very significant find. "

Chris did give Billy a very good kiss to the cheers of both Rangers and archeologists.

It took several days of hard work, but additional bunkers for the dig crew and their supplies were finally finished.

Kate came into the command bunker. "Rick, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"I just got an e-mail from the president of Duquesne-New York. They want to Skype with me tomorrow night. Dr. Bradley is back in the US and as I expected he's filed some very serious charges against me. I can do a face to face on my satellite phone, but the quality is poor. I'd like to be able to use your comm equipment so I can show the university what I've found here so far."

"Sure. We're all set up here. Come over whenever you're ready."

Kate spent the rest of the evening and most of the next day preparing her defense for her actions. Just after dinner, she went to the command bunker. To her surprise, Rick would be sitting next to her for the discussion.

"Rick, you don't have to sit with me. This doesn't involve you."

"But it does. According to US Africa Command, Bradley has made some pretty serious charges about my command here. I want to be present if any of those are brought up."

Kate started to argue, but before she could say a word, President McIlhenny of Duquesne-New York appeared on the screen. With him was Professor Harold Lockwood, Dean of the Duquesne-New York Law School.

"Good evening, Dr. Beckett. As I'm sure you're aware, Dr. Bradley has brought some very serious accusations against your leadership of the Niger dig. We, of course, will need to hear your side of things."

Before Kate could reply, Rick spoke. "First, I think we should consider Duquesne-New York's failures in this."

McIlhenny's eyebrows shot up. "Our failures? Who are you?"

"Captain Richard Rodgers, Special Forces, US Army, commander of Task Force 86, the unit co-located with your dig team."

"This hardly concerns you, Captain. Now if we can continue, Dr. Beckett…"

"I'm sorry, but this does concern me. The Army has informed me that Dr. Bradley has made some serious charges against me and the way I've handled my command. In addition, some of the things that Dr. Bradley has complained about are things that Dr. Beckett did in reaction to things that I did. Accordingly, I believe that Dr. Beckett's actions cannot be separated from my actions."

"That may be all well and true…" President McIlhenny began.

"I'll begin with Duquesne's decision to continue pressing for this dig even after being turned down by the government of Niger. Certainly, the university couldn't have been completely unaware that the whole of the Sahel has been a war zone since at least the collapse of the Gaddafi regime in Libya in 2011. However, you asked Senator Souder, an alumnus, to intervene with both the US government and that of Niger for you. Oh, by the way, I understand Senator Souder is downplaying his role in all of this. I believe he's saying he merely passed your requests on. Politicians being what they are, he may forget that he even did that if things go bad here."

"I don't think that our actions can possibly…." Dean Lockwood began.

"And now we get to the law school's mistakes." Rick continued. "I had asked that Dr. Beckett take certain precautions that I thought necessary from a military point of view. She turned to Duquesne and for some reason, the law school provided a reply."

"It was a matter of contract law." Said Lockwood, angrily.

"No, it was a matter of common sense. I'm assuming that no one involved had any experience in Africa and certainly no one had any combat experience. Rather, it seems, this was considered as some sort of bloodless law school exam, looking for precedents and making sure the precedents were on all fours, as the legal saying goes. Did anyone stop to think that disagreements in the Sahel aren't settled by well paid lawyers in comfortable courtrooms, but with guns? You're going to look awfully foolish when this comes out."

"_If_ this comes out." McIlhenny said. "It's hardly in Doctor Beckett's interest to make this public."

Rick smiled. "It's not up to Dr. Beckett, I'm afraid. There have been numerous journalists asking US Africa Command if they could be embedded out here. Think of it, gentlemen. A US Army Special Forces officer with a small group of US soldiers in the back of beyond, plus a very photogenic archeologist. It sounds like a wonderful story. And, on the other side, a group of lawyers. You know, the military is quite highly thought of these days, while lawyers are usually ranked somewhere between child molesters and serial killers in the public's estimation. It should be interesting."

Lockwood was outraged. "How dare you impugn the legal profession like that?"

"I didn't impugn anyone. I merely pointed out how the public views lawyers. Are you saying that the legal profession is held in high regard?"

McIlhenny spoke. "I think we should consider this manner more fully. After all, this is no more than a disagreement between colleagues. There's no reason that it should not be settled privately and in a friendly manner. Good day to you, Doctor Beckett. We look forward to seeing your reports on your fascinating dig."

The screen went dark.

"Reporters are coming out here?" Kate wailed. "That kind of publicity could destroy my career. Everyone will see me as a glory seeker and chasing after headlines and not as a serious archeologist!"

"Oh, I don't think we'll be getting any reporters here in the Air Mountains. When I said "out here", I meant in Africa Command's area of operations. All the reporters want to go to Libya where there's a real war. Or, maybe with the French in Operation Barkhane. Certainly not to some minor scrap like this."

"But you said…You said…" Kate spluttered.

"It's not my fault if they misunderstood me. Do you think Dr. Bradley's complaints are going to be taken seriously?"

Kate stared at him for a long moment. "Thank you, Captain Rodgers. I've learned a great deal about you from all of this."


	10. Chapter 10

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Kate was back shortly after dinner with a backpack slung over her shoulder. "Captain Rodgers, can I ask a favor of you?"

"You'd probably get a more favorable reply if you called me Rick." He said with a smile.

She smiled back. "Rick, can I do my paperwork here? I'm in a bunker with eight women and between the music and the gossiping, I can't even hear myself think."

"Sure, Kate. You can use my desk." He pointed to a pair of smoothly sanded boards nailed to two upended, empty ammo cases. The chair was another, smaller ammo case with an olive drab pillow atop it. "I'll be out checking the perimeter and the bunkers. I'll be back in a bit."

Kate put her laptop down on the table and got to work.

When Rick came back an hour and a half later, Kate's laptop was in her backpack and she was reading a book. In fact, she was reading s book that was very familiar to Rick.

"You're a fan of Richard Castle's books?" He asked.

Kate reddened slightly. "Yes, I am. Is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

Rick shook his head. "No. I like them myself, but I didn't figure for the type to enjoy the adventures of Joe Flood, a retired Special Forces NCO."

"In Castle's books the good guys always win, unlike in real life. Sometimes I prefer fantasy to reality. Flood always seems to run into people in trouble and he always helps them. Besides, they're very well written. I also like the fact that although Flood is trained in violence, he's only hit people twice in the books and shot one person, and that was in the foot. I like that he outthinks his enemies, he doesn't overpower them."

"Certainly, Flood has hit three people. What about Katrina Norton?"

"Katrina Norton was a spoiled brat whom Flood spanked to get her attention. She was a better person for it."

Rick bowed to Kate and smiled. "I bow to your superior wisdom. You know, I've heard that Castle actually is a retired Special Forces NCO."

Kate shook her head. "I doubt that. This Castle is obviously a literate, educated man. With the internet, it would be easy to get the necessary technical background for the stories and Castle could easily have found some retired NCO's to give him pointers. How many great writers have come out of your alma mater, West Point?"

"Good point. There is Edgar Allen Poe, but he only stayed at West Point for less than a year before being kicked out. Of course, generals from U.S. Grant to Norman Schwarzkopf have written successfully. However, I didn't go to West Point. I graduated from UCLA."

"So, how did a UCLA grad end up in the Army?"

Rick's smile faded. "My wife and infant daughter were killed in an automobile accident. I kind of lost it for a while. A couple of my amateur psychologist friends thought I had developed a death wish. Maybe they were right."

Kate put her arm around him. "I'm so sorry for bringing that up. I really am."

Rick stroked her cheek. "It was a long time ago and while the pain never completely goes away, it becomes bearable after a while."

"Still, I'm so very sorry for bringing that up."

"Don't be. It happens. I'll see a young mother with a baby and I'll remember. Sometimes just a sunset will remind me of looking out onto the Pacific and holding my daughter. Something will always remind me of them."

Kate thought for a moment. "Would you like to take a walk? Clear your mind?"

"Why, Dr. Beckett, I thought you'd never ask. Besides, I have a present for you."

"A present? For me?" Kate was surprised.

"It's something you'd never buy for yourself." Rick picked something up from behind his desk. "One of the wounded who was medevacked out was about your size, sort of. He left his flak jacket and helmet behind." He helped her into the flak jacket and put the helmet on her. "I've asked the Army for flak vests and helmets for your whole team. I haven't had a reply yet."

Kate grinned. "You're right. I never would have bought this for myself. Thank you."

When they were outside of the command bunker, Kate took Rick's hand and began to head north to the now uninhabited part of the mesa. When they were several hundred yards beyond the last bunker, they heard the sounds of two people making love. Rick headed for them and picked up his pace.

Kate jumped in front of him. "What are you doing?" She whispered in his ear.

"I intend to put a stop to that."

"Why? It's just Chris Sullivan and Billy Hebert. You mean you didn't know?"

"Look, Kate, talking and having dinner together is one thing but…"Rick stopped as Kate's arms were around him and her lips were pressed against his. Her tongue slid across his teeth, demanding entrance. He couldn't turn her down. She pushed her boobs against his chest and moaned softly into his mouth. Then she broke the kiss.

"We should leave them alone and go about our own business, Rick. Don't you agree?"

"I agree."

"Good, because there's a nice, soft patch of sand up ahead that's in a little dip in the ground. And you'll have to show me how to get this flak vest off. I assume you know how to get everything else off.

Rick demonstrated his proficiency at removing flak vests and other items of clothing. Kate pushed him down and mounted him astride.

"It's been a long time, lover, so I don't want any foreplay or fooling around. I just want you inside of me right now." She grasped his erection and lowered herself down onto him, then began moving up and down on him, moving faster and faster.

"Lean down so I can play with your boobs." He whispered.

She did so and he began to stroke her already hard nipples, then gently cupped her breasts, tweaking her nipples with his thumbs.

"God! I'm going to come already." She whispered. "I promise I won't make any noise." But he did hear a long drawn out moan from her.

"Me too. I'm coming."

She collapsed on top of him. "God, I needed that. Not just the sex, but sex with you.'

"You are a remarkable woman, Doctor Beckett. Very remarkable."

She kissed him softly. "You have no idea."

"This might not be a good idea. "He said after a few minutes "I've seen this sort of thing happen before."

"What, a sexy archeologist and a sexy soldier getting together?"

He laughed. "People off by themselves in the middle of nowhere. There was a Special Forces NCO and a woman from an NGO in A-Stan. They could hardly stand to be out of each other's sight. They got married in a rush. Then they went back to the US where they found they were very different people with very different dreams. The marriage fella apart in a year. What I'm saying is, Kate, I'm not looking for a good time or a one-night stand, I want a long-term relationship. I'm a soldier and you're an archeologist. This makes no sense on paper."

Kate thought for a moment. "We don't live our lives on paper. And I want a long-term relationship as well. I'm a one and done kind of a girl. But, Rick, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take. So, let's see where this goes. Maybe we will crash and burn. But maybe we won't. And one way or another, I want to find out."

"So do I." Rick checked his watch. "We should be getting back."

Kate sighed loudly. "I suppose we should."

When Chris and Billy came back to the bunkers, a large form loomed up out of the dark. "You two have a good time?" Mr. Reed asked.

"Yes, Mr. Reed. "Chris answered. "And you don't have to worry about kicking Billy's ass if he doesn't treat me right. If he doesn't treat me right, I'll kick his ass so hard he'll have to shit standing on his head."

Reed laughed softly. "Girl, if I wasn't happily married, I'd go after you myself. Go on, now. There's work to be done tomorrow."

After that night, Kate began to eat regularly at what was laughingly called the officer's mess. It consisted of Rick's table and whatever chairs could be scrounged up. For ambience, it had a candle perched on top of a beer can. Kate always made sure she sat right next to Rick. Neither Ron Fields, Glass or Bill Reed said a word. At least not in front of them.

Three days later, Kate stuck her head in the command bunker. "Oh, Captain Rodgers, can I see you for a moment?" Her voice dripped with saccharine sweetness.

Rick wondered what he'd done wrong, but got up and followed her outside.

"The chopper brought in the mail today, but someone sent some of your mail to the dig." Kate held up a letter. "This is addressed to Captain Richard Rodgers and the return address is….Black Pawn Publishing. Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Captain _Castle_?"

Rick sighed. "Yes. I'm the Rick Castle that writes the Joe Flood novels. Okay?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"The Army likes as little publicity as possible about Special Forces. Big Army had a huge hissy fit when I told them about the first Joe Flood novel. I still have to have all of my works cleared by the Army so I don't say anything that the Army doesn't want said. Actually, Bill Reed is the only one on my team that knows about the books. " Rick stopped for a moment. "Maybe it would be better if I started at the beginning. Okay?"

Kate nodded.

"I wrote my first two novels as Rick Rodgers. They were _Slaughter on Sunset Boulevard_ and _The Dame on the Santa Monica Pier._ They weren't best sellers, but they sold enough to keep Black Pawn interested. In fact, there was some talk of doing a movie. A direct to DVD movie, but a movie none the less. I was married by the time I wrote the second book. Her name was Meredith and she was gorgeous, sexy, fun loving and an actor. We had a little girl, named Alexis." Rick smiled momentarily, then the smile disappeared. "Meredith hated being pregnant. Her whole self-image was as slim, sexy Meredith, not big as a house Meredith. On Alexis' first birthday some of Meredith's friends invited her over for a party for the little birthday girl. Like most Hollywood parties, there was too much alcohol available and Meredith stayed too long and drank too much. On her way back home on the Pacific Coast Highway, she drifted into the oncoming lane and was hit by a truck. She and Alexis were killed instantly."

Kate put her hand on Rick's chest. "You don't have to say anything more. I never should have asked."

"No, you should know this. Like we both said, we're not looking for a one-night stand, we're looking for always."

Kate just nodded, but Rick took her hand.

"I was devastated. Among other things, I couldn't write a word. I couldn't do anything. I really don't know how I ended up in the Army. Maybe I really did have a death wish." Rick thought for a second. "I think maybe it was P.C. Wren, who wrote _Beau Geste_, and other stories about the French Foreign Legion, who wrote that some men joined the Legion so they no longer had to think about anything. All they had to do was keep their weapon and gear in good order, march along behind the man in front of them and do as they were told. I became a grunt, an infantryman, and went to Iraq. I kept my weapon and gear in order, followed the guy ahead of me, did what I was told and thought as little as possible. When I came back from my second tour in Iraq, my battalion commander called me into his office and told me I should apply to OCS, Officer's Candidate School. I was still in a no thinking mode, so I did. And that changed my life."

"How?" Kate asked.


	11. Chapter 11

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

"I was commanding a Ranger platoon in Iraq. Our company was providing fire power for various special ops people hunting down high value targets. I always had this idea of Special Forces as John Rambo types with a machine gun in each hand and a knife between their teeth. But I got to know a Special Forces sergeant who was nothing like that. He looked after the Iraqis with us, interpreters, police, soldiers, scouts and spies, and their families. He made sure everyone had a place to live, that their families were safe, the kids went to school, everyone got medical care, even clothes and shoes. I asked him why he did all of that. He told me he'd studied the great guerilla leaders and counter guerilla fighters. Everyone from T.E. Lawrence to Michael Collins of the IRA, Orde Wingate and the Special Night Squads in pre-WWII Palestine, Gerald Templar in Malaya after World War Two, Edward Lonsdale in the Philippines and early Vietnam, Colonel Roger Trinquier who wrote about the French war in Algeria, and…"Rick grinned at Kate. "And all sorts of people that you never heard of or have any interest in."

She smiled back. "Now that I've heard of them, I'll learn more about them."

"Anyway, he told me that the job of Special Forces was more than just raising armies of guerillas or armies of counter-guerillas. Their job was to build a strong society that wouldn't have any reason to rebel. And that was what he was doing. Every Iraqi sergeant who learned to keep his men supplied with what they needed, who looked after his men's families as well, was building a better Iraq. That really impressed me. That's when I decided I wanted to join the Special Forces."

"Was this sergeant's name Joe Flood by any chance?"

Rick shook his head. "No, and I'll never tell anyone his real name. But, all of a sudden, I wanted to write again. And the character of Joe Flood appeared."

"How do you find the time to write?"

"Mostly I do the story in my head. Luckily for me, the Army does a lot of hurry up and wait. I'll get my team to the airfield at 0400 and there's no aircraft there until 1000. So, I write down what's already in my head."

"Your secret is safe with me, Rick. Oh, and here's your mail."

For over a month, things went well. The Rangers became interested in archeology, or at least in some archeologists and began to help out at the dig. The team at the dig appreciated their enthusiastic, if amateur, assistance. More and more Roman artifacts were found to the joy of Dr. Beckett.

One day, Rick came by the dig as Kate was complaining aloud.

"Problem, Dr. Beckett?" He said with a smile.

Kate grinned back at him. "This is the outline of a typical first century CE Roman auxiliary cavalry fort. Roman soldiers, or at least their commanders, loved to inscribe bricks, tiles and stones with the unit's designation and usually the name of the commander. We haven't found enough of those to build an outhouse."

To Kate's surprise, Rick laughed. "Dr. Beckett, what you need is a well-read soldier. Have you ever heard of Hadrian's Wall?"

Kate was almost insulted. "Of course. The Roman Emperor Hadrian had a wall built in northern Britannia to separate the Roman citizens of Britannia from the Scots who liked to raid their wealthier southern neighbors."

"The Scots were called Picts in those days, but you're right. But then about 410 CE, the Romans left Britannia. Some Roman _limitanei_, their frontier troops, might have held part of the wall for a while, helped by pro-Roman local tribes, but eventually they all disappeared. Do you know what happened to the wall after that?"

Kate shook her head.

"Every time a farmer needed a new pigpen, he'd head over to the remains of the wall and get a couple of wagon loads of nice, rectangular stones. Every time a man needed some new roof tiles, he'd head for the wall. After a thousand years or so, the wall was pretty much gone. If you want to find the remains of the fort here, go look at the local goat pens. If you can stand the smell and the locals don't toss you out."

Kate curtseyed. "An excellent report. Have you ever considered becoming an archeologist?"

He bowed. "No, but I might take one to dinner tonight. I know a place with excellent MREs and ambience to die for."

Kate laughed. "And a walk afterwards?"

"Of course."

However, this didn't last. One night, the command bunker got a radio call from one of the machine gun bunkers.

"Base Eighty Six, this is Bunker Two. Come in."

"Base Eighty Six, what do you have, Bunker Two. Over."

"One of the archeology chicks went down the slope. She said she had to crap real bad and wanted to get out of our sight. That was ten minutes ago. I looked down the slope with my NVGs and couldn't see her. Over."

"Shit." Reed muttered. "Tell Bunker Two to stand fast while we check the women's bunker."

Rick and Reed ran to the woman's bunker and told Kate what had happened. A quick headcount showed they were short one woman.

"It's Julie Manning, Dr. Beckett." Chris Sullivan said. "She's always been kind of a party animal and she's been bored here. She said something about going into town for some fun, but we all told her not to. That was a week ago. I thought that she'd forgotten all about it. I mean, there's no bright lights and action around here."

Kate turned to Rick. "What might happen to her?"

"I don't know, but a lot of bad things spring to mind." He turned and sprinted back to the command bunker with Reed and Kate right behind him.

Lt. Glass spoke as soon as they entered the bunker. "Sir, we put up a drone. We have her on visuals. She's headed for the village, all right."

"Get Lt. Diori and his people here ASAP." Rick said.

"I'm already here, Captain." Diori said softly from the doorway. I assume you want me and my men to recover the woman before anything untoward happens?"

"Exactly."

"We'll have her back soon." And Diori was gone.

"We have another drone almost ready, sir." Glass said. "We can track the woman with one and Diori with the other. She's walking and Diori and his men are running. We'll have her back in no time."

They watched the two screens showing the feed from the drones. It looked like Julie Manning would reach the village a bit before Diori and his men."

"Oh, shit!" Cried to drone operator following Manning. "There are two fucking technicals parked in the village. That means jihadis sure as shit."

"Get Diori on the horn and let him know." Rick barked. "This could go very bad."

"How bad is it?" Kate whispered to Rick.

"We don't know. She may see the technicals and turn back, the villagers might treat her as a guest and hide her. The jihadis might not want to fight Diori and his men and retreat. I don't know."

Far in the distance they heard the rattle of automatic weapons fire.

"Base Eighty Six, this is Diori." Said he calm voice of the Nigerien. "That was one of the village sentries letting everyone know we're about."

Rick glanced at the two screens. "Diori, this is Snowshoes Six actual. The gunfire scared her she's running like hell for the village. There are two technicals there."

"Copy that. Out." Diori said.

"Crap!" Someone yelled. "She ran right into the fucking jihadis. They grabbed her and they're tear-assing out of there."

"Wait one." Said the drone operator. "One technical is headed off with Manning. The other is heading towards Diori. Let him know he's in deep shit."

But Diori and his men were already well aware of the oncoming technical. Mounted on the bed of the pickup truck was a 23 mm anti-aircraft gun. It was capable of being lowered to shoot at ground targets, but as the crew found, it couldn't be lowered enough to hit prone men close to the vehicle. Bursts of automatic weapon's fire killed the driver and brought the truck to a halt. Then, a shower of grenades killed the rest of the crew.

"Snowshoe 6 this is Diori. The woman was not in the vehicle we destroyed. We'll go into the village and see what we can learn. Out."

'Can we get the Hummers down the slope?" Rick asked the engineer sergeant, Pham.

"It'd be a bitch. The scree, the loose rocks, will slide out from under the Hummers. Even if you hit the brakes, you'll keep on sliding, just like if you were on ice. You might make it down with one intact, but probably not."

Reed spoke." Even if we get Hummers down there, the jihadis would have a head start of at least a half an hour on us, they know where they're going and they know the country, a lot better than we do."

"We can track them with the drones, right?" Rick asked.

"No sir." Replied the drone operator. "The ones we have are short range, just for keeping an eye on our immediate vicinity. Another ten minutes and the drone we have following the jihadis with the girl will be out of fuel."

Rick turned to his communications sergeant. "Call up _Base Aerienne 201. _Have them send a helicopter up here ASAP."

That was not to be.

"Sorry, Snowshoes 6, no can do. Every bird we have is down south moving a Nigerien battalion. And before you ask, the French are using all of theirs in a big op in Mali. The RAF Chinooks are fully committed to that as well. Over."

Suddenly there was an interruption. "Break. Break. Snowshoes 6, this is Budweiser two four. We're an Oscar Golf Alpha Charlie Victor Two Two. We're about twenty minutes from yours. If we can get permission from Home Base…."

There was another interruption. "Dave, is that you up there?"

"Charley? You're down there? I thought you were surfing in Mauretania."

"Charley don't surf. Now cut the bullshit of checking with Home Base. We've had a kidnapping of an American woman here. Get your ass down here and pick up a team to go after them."

"Well, why the fuck didn't you just say so? Be there soonest. Out."

Kate looked at Rick. "Oscar Golf Alpha? Charlie Victor two two? What are those?"

"The phonetic alphabet. OGA means other government agency and is a euphemism for the CIA. A CV 22 is a tilt wing transport aircraft, half airplane and half helicopter. "Rick turned to Lt. Glass. "Get your sniper team here and ready to go. Who else to you have that's a really good shot?"

Glass glanced at his platoon sergeant. "Corporal Jimenez and Specialist Hebert are a couple of country boys, grew up with rifles in their hands. PFC Nichols from the machine gun squad is from Detroit, but he can shoot. Sergeant Williams, one of the squad leaders is a good shot, too. He got through half of sniper school before he busted his wrist."

Rick nodded. "That's enough. Get them here and briefed and ready to go when the bird gets here. I'll take Mr. Reed and Sergeant Pirelli, we may need a medic, although I sure hope we don't."

"Rick, a Special Forces medic is a good idea, but a Special Forces medic and a doctor is a better idea."

Rick stared at Captain Fields for a long minute. "Okay, but you wear your flak vest, helmet and carry a weapon. Do not, under any circumstances, decide you're the medical version of Rambo. And I'll only allow you to fire your weapon if we're being overrun by jihadis."

"I'm going, too. "Kate said.

"The hell you are." Rick shot back.

"Julie Manning will probably be terrified out of her mind. Hearing a voice she knows will calm her down."

"Doctor Beckett…" Rick began.

"Now, where's my flak vest, helmet and M4?" Kate demanded.


	12. Chapter 12

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

Rick was about to grab Kate and haul her to somewhere safe, but thought better of it. He was beginning to understand just how stubborn she could be. And Julie Manning might just respond to Beckett's voice. "You will stay behind Captain Fields and if anything goes wrong, run. Understand?"

"Of course. "Kate noted to herself that while she understood what was said, she had no intention of paying any attention to it.

"Do you know how to shoot?" Rick asked.

"My grandpa taught me."

Rick took a deep breath. "This is against my better judgement…"

"But you're giving me a weapon."

The sniper team was first to arrive, Sergeants O'Meara and Driscoll, better know as the Irish Assassins. They were followed by the four Rangers. They were all blacked up for a night op and three had M 4 carbines and one M16 rifle, all with night sights. Rick made sure that everyone had suppressors on their weapons. If they were lucky, they'd kill their prey before they realized they were in trouble.

In minutes the aircraft was over them. It flew past to get a look at the LZ that was outlined with flares, then turned back. The wings slowly tilted from the horizontal to the vertical, turning the aircraft into a helicopter of sorts. Once it was down, Rick and his team ran to the back of the bird and boarded.

"Captain Rodgers?" A helmeted crewman yelled over the noise of the engines.

"That's me."

"Good news for you, sir. Home Base has authorized a MALE drone to keep an eye on your jihadis. We've got 'em in sight now. You want to come up and watch?"

Rick was followed to the cockpit by Reed and Kate.

"They have both boy and girl drones?" Kate asked.

"What?" Rick had no idea what she was talking about.

"He mentioned a male drone. A boy drone?"

"It's an acronym for medium altitude, long endurance drone." Rick replied.

One of the pilots held up a laptop showing an armed pickup truck speeding across the desert. "We're pretty sure that's your target. No one else is about except for a company sized Nigerien patrol about seventy clicks west of here. I'm betting everyone else is hunkered down for the night."

"Any chance they'll see or hear the drone?" Rick asked.

"It's too high and the drone is too quiet. Even if they stopped and turned off their engine, they wouldn't hear the drone. But if we have to attack them, they'll hear us coming, sure as shit."

Rick cursed, but sat back and watched the drone feed of the truck as it sped across the desert.

After ten minutes, the co-pilot tapped Rick's arm. "Good news, maybe, Captain. Home Base thinks they know where they're headed. There's a little oasis about ninety clicks from here called al-Obied. Has all kinds of traffic going through it: Jihadists, gun runners, drug smugglers, people smugglers, even the occasional honest man. We can go around the technical we're chasing and drop your people off here." He tapped a place on the laptop. "It's a little rocky ridge, but there's just one way over the ridge. By the time we drop your people off, we can be long gone, orbiting out of sight and you can ambush them."

"We'll do it then."

Rick watched the desert speed by below him through his night vision goggles. He felt the aircraft turn from a course chasing the jihadis to a fast sweep over the desert to get ahead of them.

Before he knew it, he and his team were piling out of the plane and running for the top of the small ridge. As they left, he grabbed Kate's arm. "Kate, you should…"

She pulled away from him and jumped to the ground.

_Stubborn, infuriating…fascinating woman. _He thought to himself.

He ran up the ridge and saw his team all prone on the crest. At least Fields has halfway down the back of the ridge and Kate was behind him.

"Can you see anything?" He asked Reed, who had a thermal imaging scope and was looking at the track.

"See for yourself." Reed handed the scope to Rick. Rick could only see ghostly green images of the desert. Nothing at all moved.

"Could they have gone past us already?"

Reed shook his head. "I don't see how."

They waited for what was the longest five minutes of Rick's life.

"Here they come." Reed said.

Rick took the scope and peered off into the desert. Headed for them was a pick up with no lights on. It looked like the one that had grabbed Julie Manning and Rick prayed it was the same one.

"O'Meara, when they get within fifty yards, I want you to shoot out one of the front tires. With the noise of the engine going uphill and with your suppressor, they shouldn't hear the shot. When the driver gets out and gets to the front of the vehicle, kill him."

"What if he as someone else check the tire, sir?"

"Then kill him. Everyone listen up, I want single shots and aimed fire only. Be damned sure of your target. We are not going to lose Ms. Manning. Understand?" Castle then told each shooter what their target was. Jimenez and Hebert were to take out the gunners of whatever weapon the technical was armed with.

"Hey, Billy." Jimenez whispered. "You have any idea what kind of weapon the fucker is hauling?"

"No, but since it's a Toyota pickup, I'd bet it's a Russian _Dushka_ heavy machine gun. Maybe even one of the 14.5 mm really heavy machine guns. You want to take the gunner or the loader?"

Jimenez thought for a second. "I'll take the loader. At a distance, I'm the better shot on account of I learned to shoot in wide open West Texas. You learned shoot in them swamps in Loo-see-anna where you can't see more than maybe ten feet. Okay?"

"Okay. I'll light the motherfucker up good." Billy thought he was a better distance shot than his friend, but decided there was no point in starting an argument.

"What the fuck is that noise?" Sergeant O'Meara asked.

Reed laughed. "They're listening to a recorded sermon by some mullah exhorting them to kill infidels. They won't hear us at all."

At fifty yards, O'Meara shot out the left front tire. The truck drifted a bit left and then stopped after another twenty yards. There was some yelling from inside the cab, then the driver got out and walked to the front of the truck. As soon as he knelt by the flat tire, O'Meara fired again. The man dropped without a sound.

There was more yelling from the cab and soon a second man jumped off the back and went to look. As soon as he rounded the front of the truck, Driscoll shot him. Then everyone opened fire. Jimenez and Hebert opened fire, but to their shock and amazement, the heavy machine gun swung almost straight up in the air and began firing. As they watched, they could see green tracer rounds arc into the night sky and burn out.

"Shit! Those things'll go a mile in the air." Jimenez swore." Everyone knows we're here now."

"I got a second one in the truck bed. I think that's it." Someone yelled. Rick, followed by everyone else, ran to the truck.

"Julie? Are you okay? It's Kate Beckett. Where are you?"

After a second, they heard, "Dr. Beckett? I'm in the back of the truck bed."

Rick and Kate were the first ones there. Rick took one look and told everyone else to stay back. "She's naked." He yelled." We need some clothes."

A lot of cursing and checking showed no one had brought extra clothes.

"Oh, hell." Kate muttered and began taking off her flak jacket and helmet, followed by her tee shirt and shorts." She jumped into the truck bed and helped Julie get dressed.

"Now you're just wearing your underwear." Rick commented.

"And you can't see any more of me than if I was wearing a bikini at the beach." She didn't add that Rick had seen more than that.

Rick took off his flak jacket and pulled off his shirt. "Here. It'll cover most of you."

"You just want to see my legs." She teased.

"I could loan you my pants." He said, with a smile.

"Is the girl okay?" Fields called out. "If so, we need to call the bird back and get out of here."

"Check her to be sure, Ron. The rest of you check the truck. Take anything of intelligence value, wreck the weapons and get ready to go."

Jimenez clambered up into the bed of the pickup. "Ho-lee Shit! Guess what our very own Cajun killer, the Bayou Brawler, the…."

"If it's fucking worth all that noise, just tell us." Growled Reed.

"He shot the fucker right through the throat and severed his spinal cord on the way out. Our jihadi collapsed and his head pushed the gun up and it pushed down on the butterfly triggers. The damned gun fired a whole belt until it ran out of ammo. You won't see a shot like that every day, amigos."

Reed handed Jimenez a grenade. "We need to disable that gun and the rest of the shit here. Pile the other weapons, ammo, grenades, spare gas cans and any other shit you find. The bird is about four minutes out. When we all get aboard, take this grenade and toss it in the truck and run like hell. Got that?"

"This is Willy Peter?" He asked.

"Damn straight. So you'd better run like hell."

"Willie Peter?" Kate asked Rick.

"White phosphorus. It burns like the fires of hell. Water won't put it out. Bad shit."

The CIA bird landed well away from the disabled pickup, having been told it would be lit up. When everyone else was aboard, Jimenez tossed the WP grenade in the back and ran like hell for the tiltwing. He had just dived in when the grenade went off and the truck and ammo began to erupt.

The pilot called Rick up to the cockpit. "We hade the drone check the area. I'm sure you were seen or heard, but there's no one headed this way. We're good."

Rick went back to his seat and wearily sat. His adrenaline rush was fading and he was tired. Before he knew it, something touched his shoulder. It was Kate, sound asleep with her head on his shoulder. _What the hell._ He thought and put his arm around her.

He woke up when he heard the pitch of the rotors change. They were coming in for a landing. As he expected, everyone was waiting as they left the bird. Fields took Julie Manning to the medical bunker for a full medical checkup. As they reached the door of the bunker, Kate put her hand on Rick's chest, stopping him. "I'm going to get my clothes back so I can give your shirt to you."

"I won't be seeing anything unfamiliar if I follow you in." He teased.

"You won't see anything in public, Rick, but in private…." She let the sentence hang and went into the bunker. In a few minutes she called for him to come in.

"How is she, Doc?"

"She wasn't sexually violated, but she was slapped around. Just cuts and bruises, but she's also in shock. I have her sedated and she's asleep."

"Will I be able to give her hell tomorrow for pulling such a stupid stunt?" Kate demanded.

Ron smiled. "Give her all the hell you want, and give her some from me."

"And me." Rick added.

Rick's team was led away to be quickly debriefed and have any intel they had found collected and quickly reviewed. When Billy Hebert walked away, Chris Sullivan ran to him, stopping as the Ranger platoon sergeant, Hobbes, stopped him.


	13. Chapter 13

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

"I hear you did good out there tonight, Hebert. When we first got you, I thought you might be a terminal fuckup, but I guess that was just a one time thing, right?"

"Absolutely, Sergeant Hobbes. A one time thing. It'll never happen again."

"Rangers lead the way, Hebert." Hobbes said as he walked away.

"Rangers lead the way, Sergeant Hobbes." Hebert replied.

"Billy, are you okay?" Chris said softly, not sure who might be around.

"Just fine. Not a scratch."

"What happened?"

"We caught the bad guys and saved the girl. What else did you expect?"

"What did Hobbes mean about that one time thing?"

Billy blushed, luckily it was too dark for Chris to see, but she knew he was keeping something from her.

"Billy, I don't like it when my man keeps things from me."

He smiled. If he was her man, he'd tell her anything. "Um, well, I had to write a sentence a thousand times for Sergeant Hobbes and a thousand times for Lt. Glass."

"What did the sentence say?"

"US Army Rangers do not eat the flesh of their slain enemies to gain their strength and it is wrong to tell your high school buddies that they do."

Chris gasped. "You didn't do that."

"I sure did."

"Why?"

"Civilians are stupid." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he'd just made a big mistake. "Um, I didn't mean…"

"Is there another civilian here with you?" Chris said coldly.

"I meant male civilians, back home. Not you."

"Then why didn't you say that male civilians, back home are stupid?"

"Chris, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Chris thought for a very long time. She thought for so long that Billy was sure she'd never forgive him. But, finally, she spoke. "I guess I will, but you're going to have to be very nice to me. Very, very nice to me."

"Sure. Anything you want."

She took his hand. "You can start tonight when we get away from all these people."

He was very, very nice to her.

Things settled down for a while. Kate chewed out Julie Manning, who cut the chewing out short by sobbing uncontrollably. Kate found herself holding and comforting the sobbing girl, but Julie was a model archeologist from then on.

However, after several days, both the Intelligence Support Activity team leader and the CIA team leader came to see Rick.

"We have a problem, sir." Sergeant Molle of the ISA began. The CIA man nodded.

"What is it?"

"We've been picking up a lot of chatter. A whole lot of chatter."

"About?" Rick asked.

"About us." Molle went on. "It seems one of the people you killed getting the girl back was some sort of a free lance Islamic State roving ambassador of ill will. He got run out of Syria when IS got kicked out of there and went to Libya. He's been up north in Libya promising the faithful lots of money, weapons and recruits. Then he headed down here to promise the same to the various Islamic radical factions down here. They were expecting to be overwhelmed with guns, money and people and now their rainmaker is gone, so to speak."

Rick thought for a moment. "Anything specific?"

Both men shook their heads. "Just the usual demands that Islamic justice via jihad be brought down on us. People have also been issuing _fatwas_ right and left authorizing our deaths. And not just us. They've started saying that Dr. Beckett's group isn't here to dig up some old Roman fort but to demolish an old and sacred Muslim mosque."

"Okay, keep me informed of anything you hear. I'll talk to the colonel and Dr. Beckett."

The talk with the colonel was not enlightening. "You haven't heard a word about all of this, sir?"

The colonel shook his head. "Bureaucracy. To get info to you, the local CIA and ISA people had to walk to your bunker from theirs. To get to me, that information has to go up two separate chains of command and then down to me. And there are plenty of stops along the way. But I'm on it now, Rick. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, be ready for anything."

Rick walked over to the dig where Kate was working with her team and a few off-duty Rangers. She smiled as soon as she saw him and headed towards him.

"Dr. Beckett, we need to talk."

"If it's Dr. Beckett and not Kate, it must be serious. Did I do something Rick?"

He smiled. "Believe me, Kate, you've done an enormous number of things, all of which I thoroughly approve of." Then he told her about the news he'd been given.

She nodded. "Okay, I've learned my lesson. If you say the word, we're out of here."

"I'm still waiting to see how serious it is. According to our listening posts, there's just a lot of angry chatter. And, there is always a lot of angry chatter among the jihadis. It may be nothing. But you might want to get things ready to go in case you have to evacuate in a hurry."

"I'm way ahead of you. When we get through with anything, we pack it up, ready to go."

"Another thing. I'm going to have to pull your volunteer Ranger assistants. I want to ramp up security and start manning more of the sangars, day and night. Plus, I want to dig everyone in deeper. Most of the Rangers will be too tired to be any help."

"That's going to upset a few of the ladies here. Except for the one who can have her meals in the officers' mess."

He laughed. "You're welcome any time. Even if it isn't meal time."

"I'll take you up on that."

Rick was kept up to date on the listening posts' information at the end of every shift. It was more of the same, a great deal of anger and threats, but nothing specific.

A day later, he heard back from the colonel. "Jesus, Rick. You should be glad you don't have my job. Getting anything out of the bureaucracy, both military and CIA, is like pulling the teeth of an uncooperative elephant. I can confirm from many sources that there is an awful lot of angry chatter directed at you and the archeological dig. However, there's been nothing to indicate any planned attack."

"That's good." Rick said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Maybe not." The colonel went on. "The local jihadis don't have much of a technological background and tend to trust cell phones and radios more than they should. That let's us listen in to them. Regrettably, the more sophisticated jihadis know this and don't communicate by phone or radio. They either communicate by courier or face-to-face. It's a lot safer for them, and more secure, but it's a lot slower for them to mount any kind of an operation. Has Dr. Beckett asked Duquesne about pulling the dig team out?"

"I talked to her about the chatter, but she hasn't made any decisions and I didn't ask her to make any. But, she is ready to leave at a moment's notice if we say so."

"Rick, I never liked the idea of having the dig team there and I like it even less now. You might ask her to suggest to Duquesne that this is a good time to get going while the going is still good."

Rick told Kate what the colonel had suggested.

"We've done very well here, Rick. I'll hate to leave, for more than one reason, but I do think it's best. I'll use the satellite phone to call Duquesne tonight. Will you be there with me? I'm sure they'll want to hear your opinion first hand."

"Sure. Why don't you come to the command bunker for dinner? We can use my comm outfit."

Kate sighed. "I'd better tell my people. I know there have already been rumors."

Dinner that night was subdued. The call to Duquesne had gone as Kate had expected. When said that they might be leaving without completing the excavation of the dig, President McIlhenny told them that the university had been getting some heat for sending the team into a war zone, especially after the attack and then the kidnapping.

"I'm sorry to say that we've been thinking of pulling the plug on this even before this call, Dr. Beckett. However, you have done a great deal of work there and advanced our knowledge of Roman trade in Africa substantially."

"Thank you." Kate answered glumly. "When will we be leaving?"

"As I said, we've been looking into this. We can have you out of there in three days."

Kate thanked McIlhenny and signed off.

"At least we have three days." She said to Rick.

Actually, they had two.

It was just after dawn when Castle heard the distant, but familiar metallic thump of a mortar being fired. He was out of bed and halfway into his boots when the first shell hit.

Sergeant Hobbes was manning the radios. "Sir, the machine gun bunkers report they're taking pretty heavy machine gun and small arms fire. There's no attack though, and they say they can't see anyone. Probably just trying to keep our people pinned down and hoping for a lucky shot."

"How about the sangars?" Rick yelled as more mortar shells landed.

Before Hobbes could answer, Kate Beckett threw herself into the command bunker.

"Kate, are you okay? Why didn't you go to your own bunker?"

"I was in my own bunker. I wanted to be here. With you."

Rick started to say something, but thought better of it. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, I'm busy."

He turned back to Hobbes just as Lt. Glass dove into the bunker, followed closely by Warrant Officer Reed. Reed spoke. "It looks like they're trying to hit our mortar and they're on the damned peak to the east of us. I'm betting they have a forward observer on the fucking spire 'cause they're coming damned close to the mortar sangar."

Rick thought for a second. "Okay, get two drones up. Have one scout for the enemy mortars and have the other look for the observer on the spire. Get the Hummers to where they can shoot at the spire. If we can keep the observer's head down, he won't be able to spot for their mortars."

It seemed to take forever to get the drones in the air, but eventually two were up.

The drone senior operator yelled across the command bunker to Rick. "We've had to put our birds up out of the reach of small arms fire, sir. Every time we try to get lower, they shoot everything they have at us. But I got one mortar pit spotted, but it'll be a bitch to hit."

Rick moved over to look at the feed from the drone and cursed. "It'll be a bitch and a half to hit. He's dug in in a narrow valley. And the mortar pit is all underground. If we don't hit the walls of the valley, we'll need to drop our mortar shells right in the pit, otherwise, they won't hit anything."

They radioed the location of the mortar they'd found to their mortar crew. Rick watched as shell after shell dropped near the enemy mortar pit, but none found their way into the pit.

"Shit! Have we found any others? There have to be three mortars out there shooting at us."

The drone operator shook his head. "We found another one, but there's no joy. The fuckers have been watching us. The second mortar is set up where they can't hit our mortar because there's a mountain in the way and we can't hit them for the same reason. But they can shoot at the rest of our position."

"Can't we move the mortar to hit them?" Glass yelled over the sound of incoming fire.

"We'd have to set up out in the open. The pricks have spotted all of our sangars and put their tube where it can't be hit from any sangar we have." Reed yelled.


	14. Chapter 14

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

"Med bunker says we have two wounded coming in." Hobbes called out. "We may need a medivac."

Rick got on the radio to ask for air support.

"_Base Aerienne 201_ this is Snowshoes Six Actual. We're taking heavy fire. I need close air support and I need it now. Over."

"Snowshoes Six Actual, this is _Base Aerienne 201. _Perfect timing. We have two French Air Force fast movers that just finished tanking and can be to your location in fifteen minutes." Rick was given the aircraft's call signs and told what their ordnance was.

"_Base Aerienne 201_ this is Snowshoes 6 Actual. Thanks. Anything else you can give us? Over."

"Snowshoes 6 Actual this is _Base Aerienne 201_. We have nothing now. Got problems all over. We may have something later. _Base Aerienne 201 _out."

"Reed, grab a radio. The French fast movers are going to need a ground observer. That's us."

"You're going out there?" Kate asked.

"That's what I do."

Kate didn't say another word, but kissed him, hard. "Just remember you have a reason to come back inside." She whispered.

Rick and Reed grabbed an ATV and headed for the northern end of the mesa. "I think the ruins of the old Roman fort will give us some cover and give us a good look at the damned rock spire to the east. I'm sure that fucking OP is there." Rick yelled over the noise of the ATV's engine.

They had just made it to the old fort when two delta winged shapes appeared overhead. Rick contacted the lead and told him he wanted the rock spire to the east hit.

"Snowshoes 6 Actual, this is Cigogne 34. We have two 500 kilogram LGBs apiece. Can you lase for us? Over"

"Cigogne 34 this is Snowshoes 6 Actual. I think we can. I'll get back to you. Out." Rick had Reed change frequencies on the radio. "Ranger sniper team, this is Snowshoes 6 Actual, where are you? Over."

There was a moment of silence until Rick heard a scratchy reply. "Snowshoes 6 Actual, this is sangar nine. What do you need? Over."

Rick quickly explained that the aircraft overhead had laser guided bombs and needed someone on the ground to paint the spire with a laser to give the bombs an aimpoint.

"Snowshoes 6 Actual, this is sangar nine. More than glad to help out. We do have a laser designator. It'll take us minute to set up, but I think I have a rough idea of where their spotter is. Out."

The minutes dragged on like hours, but finally the sniper team had the laser designator set up and operational. Rick called the French aircraft and watched as the two aircraft came in low and each dropped one bomb. He watched as the two bombs guided towards the spire and exploded in a cloud of dust, sending shattered pieces of rock flying.

"Outstanding Cigogne 34. Outstanding! I think you got him."

He heard a chuckle from far above him. "Thank you, Snowshoes 6 Actual. Any more work for us?"

"We have a mortar position that's been giving us hell. We can't lase it for you, but I'll get out mortar team to put some smoke on it to give you a target. It's dug in well so you'll need to drop your bombs right in the mortar pit to knock it out."

Rick struggled to coordinate the drone to spot for the mortar, and to try to put the aircraft above on target. At last, he saw the two aircraft heading for the enemy mortar position. He saw each drop a bomb and then heard two explosions. He waited for over a minute, afraid the bombs had missed. Then he heard cheering over the radio."

"This is Snowshoes 6 Actual. Anybody? What happened? Did they hit the mortar?"

Lt. Glass answered him. "No, sir. They hit the side of valley and dropped about a ton of rocks on them. It'd take a week to dig what's left of the mortar and crew out."

Then Rick was interrupted. "Snowshoes 6 Actual, this is Cigogne 34. We have no bombs left, but we do have 30 mike mike cannons. Any targets?"

Rick looked around. There were no mortar rounds impacting the mesa. "Cigogne 34, the mortar fire has stopped, but we've been getting machine gun and other small arms fire from the ridge to the east of us. I'll have our mortar drop some smoke on it to give you an aiming point. Out."

As Rick and Reed headed for the command bunker, he could see the two aircraft working over the ridgeline with cannon fire.

"Any good news?" Rick asked as he entered the bunker.

Lt. Glass shook his head. "The drones have lost the one mortar we'd spotted. The crew packed it up and scooted. We never did spot any more mortars, and we're not getting much incoming from the ridge east of us. We may have seen the last of them."

Rick waited for an hour after the aircraft had left before he allowed anyone to leave the shelter of the bunkers or the sangars. One of the archeology team suggested they have a barbecue to celebrate and to commemorate the end of the dig, but Rick refused.

"There are still enemy mortar teams out there and lots of other bad guys. I want everyone to stay close to their bunkers or sangars. The dig team will be leaving tomorrow and I don't want anyone getting killed or wounded now."

Kate took a long look at Chris Sullivan, who nodded. She wouldn't be having the farewell with Billy that she'd wanted.

Then again, Kate thought, she wouldn't have the farewell with Rick she'd wanted. They did, however, have dinner together in the command bunker. They were sitting together at one end of the bunker, with Kate's head leaning on Rick's shoulder when Rick heard the metallic thump of a mortar being fired. By the time the round had hit, Rick was working the radios.

"Sir!" Glass yelled. "Machine gun bunker one took a direct hit on the top of the bunker. Not casualties and they say they can't see any damage to the bunker itself, but…" There was another mortar explosion. "That was another direct hit on the bunker. They must have an observer back in the spire."

"Get _Base Aerienne 201_ on the horn. We need air support again."

To Rick's surprise, they heard from their air support almost at once.

"Snowshoes 6, this here is 'Bama five one. We're an Alpha Charley One Three Zero Hotel. Ah unnerstan' y'all need a bit o' delousing?"

"Bama five one, this is Snowshoes Six Actual. We're taking very accurate mortar fire from some jihadis. We're pretty sure they have an observer on the rock spire to the east of us. Over."

"Ah unnerstan 'that, Sonny. Now you just let your ole Uncle Glen do his thang. Ah think we done spotted us one o' them mortars now. To repeat the redneck's last words, lookee this, everyone."

Kate looked at Rick with a puzzled look on her face. "He's flying a hotel?"

"It's an AC 130 H model, using a phonetic alphabet. The C 130 is a large, four engine transport plane, converted to a gunship by adding in a couple of 20 millimeter Vulcan cannons, a 40 millimeter cannon and a 105 millimeter cannon."

He had no sooner finished speaking than they heard a sound like a giant tearing some sheet metal in half.

"That's the Vulcans."

"Woo-wee, Sonny. They was just about to light out in their truck when we lit 'em up. That's one mortar that won't bother you damnyankees no more. Now what about that there big rock?"

"Bama five one, this is Snowshoes 6 Actual. The spire was shot up by the French Air Force a few hours ago, so I'm not sure where the spotter is. We could paint where we think he might be with a laser. Over."

"Waal, that won't be necessary, Sonny. I'm goin' to do sumpin' I allus wanted to try."

"Sir, "Sergeant Hobbes called to Rick. "We have a visual from the drones of the spire."

Everyone crowded around the computer screen to see.

"What the fuck?" Rick said." He's shooting at the bottom of the damned spire. There's no way the spotter could be there. He couldn't see anything."

"Maybe he's trying to cut the spire down." Kate said.

"No, that's…"Rick stopped. "That's exactly what he's trying to do."

They watched as streams of red tracers from the gunship lashed across the base of the spire, interspersed with the crashing of the 105 mm cannon.

"Sir," Glass said, "there are pieces of rock starting to fall. Big pieces. Oh shit!"

They watched in awe as the base of the spire shattered and it slowly topped into the canyon below.

"I'll be damned." Rick said softly.

"Damn it all." Came over the radio. "Now weren't that purtier than any Fourth of July fireworks you ever seen, Sonny?"

"Bama five one this is Snowshoes 6 actual. Roger on that. Over."

"Ah still got me some ammo, so I'm gonna take a look-see at that there ridge."

After a minute or two, Bama five one called back. "Them jihadis skedaddled. There weren't one of them still there. Okay, Sonny, Ah'm headed for the barn. Y'all need any help in the future, y'all just call Bama five one an' we'll come runnin'."

"Bama five one this is Snowshoes 6 actual. Thanks a lot. I hope your unorthodox radio chatter doesn't get you in any trouble. Over."

"Don't y'all worry none, Sonny. Seein' as how I'm a colonel and the wing commander, I don't reckon I'll git in any trouble. Bama five one, over and out."

Early the next day, the personnel from the dig prepared to leave. As usual the choppers came in early and wanted to get in and out as soon as possible. There was at least one more mortar team out there someplace, or so everyone thought.

Kate put her arms around Rick's neck and kissed him. "You have my cell phone number, both my office and personal email, and my…"

He kissed her back. "Yes, I can call, email you, snail mail you, Skype with you, tweet with you and if all else fails I can use carrier pigeons and smoke signals. Don't worry, I'll keep in touch, Kate."

"You'd better."

He kissed her again. "You have to go. You're the only one not on a chopper."

She took a deep breath, turned and ran to the waiting bird. As it lifted off, he saw her wave from the cabin. Then she was gone.

The next day, the camp seemed empty without the dig crew. Rick decided that he needed to reorganize the bunkers. Now that he had spare bunkers, he'd put some of his troops in the now empty bunkers so everyone would have more room. He had just finished inspecting one of the supply bunkers the dig team had used and was headed to a personnel bunker when he heard the metallic thunk of a mortar being fired.

"Shit!" He screamed and sprinted toward the nearest bunker. He was diving head first into the bunker when he saw a flash of light and felt unimaginable pain through out his body. Then all was darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

Into Africa

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own no Castles. Or Becketts. Rating: K+ for language. Time: The present day, but in an alternate universe.

**Two months later. **

Rick Rodgers limped out of the deli with his lunch in one hand and his cane in the other. He hated the cane, but any exertion would make his legs hurt like hell. He tolerated the cane.

Then, a low, sexy voice called out. "Hey, soldier boy. Looking for a good time?"

He whirled around and almost lost his balance. "Kate?" He knew she was gorgeous, but he hadn't seen her like this before. Her stiletto heels accented her long, lithe legs. He blue skirt was short, coming to about six inches above the knee and her blouse showed a generous amount of cleavage. Her hair was longer now, falling in curls around her face. She wore little makeup, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty.

"Who else?" She said with a smile.

He took a step towards her, but she ran to him and ran her lips softly over his. "I'll give you a better kiss when I know what parts of you aren't wounded."

"Just my legs. I was halfway into the bunker when I got hit."

"Then here's your better kiss." She put her arms around his neck, and gave him a scorching kiss, molding her body to his.

When they broke the kiss, he smiled down at her. "Sorry I only managed one email to you."

She shook her head and smiled back. "You were wounded. You're okay except for the legs, right?" She asked, suddenly concerned.

"My Doctor keeps a very close eye on me. Don't worry."

"I hope your doctor isn't a woman. I'm the only woman I want keeping an eye on you. On all of you." She said suggestively.

"It's Ron Fields. You should see him. He goes to the gym and he's out on the firing range any time he can get away. I keep having to remind him not to believe the hype about him being the next Rambo. Dr. Rambo, that is. He may end up working with the Special Forces some day."

Kate ran her hand over the gold oak leaves on his lapels. "_Major_ Rodgers. Congratulations."

"They told me I'd been promoted while I was still sedated. I had to ask three times after that to make sure I wasn't hallucinating."

"And you're stationed here at Fort Bragg?"

"I'm still assigned to the hospital, but when they release me, I'm going to the JFK Special Warfare Center and learn to shuffle paper. I'm afraid my days as a SFOD A commander are over. They don't give teams to majors."

"I can't say I'm unhappy about that." She stopped for a moment. "What happened to your team and the Rangers after you left?"

"They were replaced by a battalion from Chad. Chad's been fighting since forever. Good soldiers, I hear. The listening post is still there. Maybe someday someone can come back and complete the dig."

"I knew the Rangers you had there were back. If you remember Chris Sullivan…"

"The blonde who was with Billy Hebert?"

"They're conducting a long range courtship now that he's in Georgia and she's back in New York. I wonder if he'll become an archeologist or she'll become a soldier."

"So what brings you to Fort Bragg?"

"Who do you think brings me here?"

He pretended to think. "Me?" He said at last.

"Absolutely."

"How long can you stay?"

"A very long time. You're looking at the new head of the archeology department at Wake Forest University."

"You left Duquesne? Why?" He was afraid that if it was because of him, she might resent him for it someday.

She shrugged. "As long as I was at Duquesne, I'd always be Jim and Johanna Beckett's little girl. When I got back there were a lot of nasty rumors that I'd gotten in over my head in Africa and that I'd only been sent because my parents were the dean of students and dean of the college of liberal arts. At Wake Forest, I'll have to stand on my own two feet."

"And lovely feet they are, but I hope you know that there are very few Roman ruins in North Carolina. The next one they find will make an even one."

She laughed. "Did you know that the interior of North Carolina was largely settled by Gaelic speaking Scots Highlanders? And most of them remained loyal to the English during the American Revolution?"

"I missed that in school. That's going to be your specialty now?"

"Not exactly. Most Americans aren't interested in their Loyalist ancestors. But, during the Revolution, African-American slaves who escaped from Patriot slave owners were freed by the British. There was a mostly African-American town on the seacoast that provided crews for British privateers. When the Revolution ended, most ended up in Canada and a few elsewhere, mostly the Bahamas. There's a lot of interest in the African-American community about their ancestors and I have a grant to do a dig there. And I have a lot of enthusiastic supporters for the dig, one or two in Congress."

"Just how far away is this town?"

"Nothing that a healthy Army officer couldn't drive in an hour or two."

"I'll have to try that, just to make sure you're right."

"I understand you have another Joe Flood book coming out in a week or so? _Flood's River_?"

"Yup. Joe Flood in the Big Easy."

"Any way I could get some spoilers?" She batted her eyelashes very coquettishly.

"As it happens, I have a few advanced copies at my quarters. If you'd care to come along, I could let you have one."

"At your quarters? Is this some plot of yours to get me alone and take advantage of me?"

"Absolutely."

"Then let's go."

"And I've already started the next book, _Flood's Dig_. You can read what I've written so far."

"_Flood's Dig_? Is it about archeology?"

"Of course. Joe Flood meets a beautiful and brainy archeologist when he goes on a dangerous dig as her bodyguard."

"What's the archeologist's name?"

"Ohio Smith."

Kate made a face. "That's an awful name. It's so derivative."

"Do you have a better name?"

Kate thought for a moment. "How about Nikki Heat?"

"Nikki Heat? That's a stripper name."

"It's an archeologist's name. And since you know nothing about archeology, you'll need a muse."

"A muse? Now where would I get a muse?"

She put her arm around him. "You already have one. Now where are you parked?"

And off they went.

Together.

Always.

The End

**Author's note: I do try to be accurate, up to a point, in my stories. The Romans did trade far beyond their Empire, as far as India. There has been trade across the Sahara for millennia, too. While the Romans did patrol the northern end of the Sahara Desert with camel mounted soldiers, to the best of my knowledge, they never got as far a modern-day Niger.**

**Gaelic speaking Scots Highlanders did settle the interior of North Carolina, and other places and they largely remained loyal to King George III. Flora MacDonald, famous in Scotland for helping Bonnie Prince Charley escape after the Scots' defeat at Culloden, eventually settled in North Carolina where she remained loyal to the Crown. She fled back to Scotland after the Revolution.**

**My own military service was with the Air Force during the Vietnam War, so I may have made mistakes describing current operations by the Army. I did hear that a soldier in the late 1990s was punished for telling his old high school buddies that US troops did eat the bodies of their dead foes to gain their strength. This may just be a war story, though. **

**Next up is ****_When Kate Shot Rick_****. No, it's not at all like ****_When Harry Met Sally_****. **


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